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luvfy0dor · 5 months ago

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“His Hands are in my Hair, His Clothes are in my Room ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol

Warnings; Nikolais and Chuuyas are hardly proofread, Nikolais was rushed, Nikolais nearly got scrapped, I don't like Nikolais, maybe a little ooc

Description; sharing clothing w the BSD boys

A/n; GUYS OH MY GOD I GOT A 5 ON MY FIRST AP EXAM IM SO PROUD OF MYSELF AHHHHHH IM GONNA CRY also I'm sorry posts are so few and far between. It's so hot and hard to function. I know I said the exact same thing to excuse minimal posts in winter but like. its literally hot as balls and all I got is a puny ass 8yro fan and the occasional sip of iced water.

Osamu Dazai ★

• Dazai likes to take your old T-shirts to sleep in when you lend them to him for the night. After a few nights of having Dazai at your house, you wonder why your sleep-shirt collection has nearly cut in half.

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You unlocked the door of your apartment and pushed it open with your unoccupied hand. The other arm held a large brown paper bag filled with gas station food and snacks for you and your boyfriend, who followed you inside. Once you set the bag down on the coffee table, you retrieved your keys from the door and closed it. When you came back to the kitchen, Dazai had already dumped everything out and was sifting through all the options. "The walk back from the gas station was hardly five minutes and I've already forgotten everything we got." He says with a grin, opening a bag of chips and eating a couple. He offered you some, holding the bag out to you. "Want some?' He mumbled.

"Yeah, let me just change into pajamas first, I don't wanna do anything until I'm comfortable." You said, shrugging off your jacket and starting to undo your belt before you even make it back to your room. Dazai followed suit, bag of chips still in hand. "Can I borrow some?" You nodded before taking off your shirt and tossing it in the laundry hamper, going through your closet to find a shirt for your boyfriend and yourself. "Thank youuu~" He plops down onto your bed, keeping the chip bag upwards so he doesn't get any crumbs or dust on your nice blankets. He watches you pull one of your band shirts over your head, admiring your body from his position on your mattress. He's snapped out of his daze when black fabric comes flying at him, but he catches it before it can smack him in the face. "Thanks, babe, you're so kind."

He switches his work clothes for your old ones, the big shirt nearly swallowing his scrawny torso comfortably. "Alright, I want snacks, come on." You gesture for him to follow you back out to the kitchen where the array of snacks was waiting for the two of you on the counter. There were numerous kinds of chocolate, and Dazai had grabbed a couple bags of gummies for himself. There were a few more bags of chips for variety, and you scooped everything up in your arms to bring to the living room. You dropped them all on the coffee table and grabbed the remote. "Alright, what movie are we feeling?" You ask, turning to the brunette man. "Uhhhhh, how about an action movie. Somethin' that looks exciting." He says, slinging his arm over your shoulder while he munches on sour gummy worms. Eventually, the two of you decide on a Godzilla movie, slumped against the couch with chocolate residue on the tips of your fingers from your candies. Dazai let out a long sigh as the movie came to a close, leaning into you and resting his head on your shoulder.

You ran your fingers through Dazais messy and slightly greasy hair, scratching his scalp and listening to his pleased, quiet hum. "Are you falling asleep or are you up for another movie?" You ask him, watching the credits roll on the TV. "I'm up for another movie, I just think I might be having a sugar crash." He says, groaning as he sits back up. You nod and grab the remote again, browsing through all the film options. Every now and again, your eyes involuntarily flickered over to your boyfriend, and you couldnt help but smile. He looked really cute in your shirt, and it almost made you wanna treat the movie like chopped liver and cuddle up to him.

"You look really cute." You say, playing whatever movie you absent-mindedly started in your daze. "Oh, I know, right?" He grins running his hand over his body. "As a matter of fact, I've never felt sexier." He teases, moving his eyebrows up and down with a smirk. You can't help but laugh at him. "Let's get you on a playboy cover." Before you know it, he's standing up in front of the TV. "Scrap the movie, you have me for entertainment instead." He puts his hands on his hips and strikes a pose, making you laugh some more. "You want some attention? I mean, I guess since you asked so politely." You stand up with an eye roll and pull him in, kissing him and running a hand down his side. He keeps one hand on your chin, tilting your head to meet his lips, sighing quietly each time your lips part for a quick moment. Soon, you both need more air then small gasps and have to pull away. He smiles and messes with the fabric of your own shirt. "How about we ditch this mess for now and go to bed, yeah? We can continue comfortably there?" He offers, You glance back over at the piles of snacks, opened or not, scattered acrossed the floor. Normally you'd make him help you clean up before doing anything else, but tonight you really couldn't be bothered and just wanted to follow Dazai wherever he'd take you. "Alright, let's go."

Chuuya Nakahara ★

• Everyone knows that Chuuya adores his hat, but not everyone knows he's got a decently sized collection of fancy hats on top of his closet. One day while rummaging around and trying to find one of Chuuyas button downs for him, you notice them all on the top rack.

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"Chuuya, you didn't tell me you had so many hats!" You called out to him, standing back and staring at them all. Chuuya was currently in the bathroom, shaving his peach fuzz to keep his smooth face. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I've got a ton." He calls back, washing the shaving cream off of his skin. "They're pretty..can I try some of 'em on?" You ask, reaching to grab the one on the top of the stack. "Go ahead." He walks out of the bathroom with his towel around his waist, leaning against the doorframe to watch the little fashion show you were about to put on. The first one you grabbed was adorned with flowers of various colors. You placed it on your head and turned around, posing with your hands on your hips.

"What do you think? Vogue worthy?" You ask him. He smiles at you and nods, his arms crossed over his chest. "One hundred percent, that's peak fashion." He says genuinely, standing up straight and walking over to the closet. He reaches up and grabs another hat for you to try, switching it out for the flowers one. This one is a dark, reddish brown color. "This one's cute too." You giggle and head over to the bathroom to see for yourself. "Ooo, I'm not sure this kinda hat is necessarily for me." You giggle. "What do you mean? It looks great on you!" He says, following you in and hugging you from behind. "You only say that because they're your hats." You say, grinning.

"I mean, I guess not everyone is destined to look good in them like me." He says, squeezing your hip. "I gotta actually get ready for work now, I'm probably runnin' late." He says, turning around and dropping his towel. He tossed it into the hamper before getting dressed in his usual attire, spotting the button down that you had forgotten about in favor of his hat collection. "Okayyyy." You yawn, stretching your arms over your head and treading through the bedroom to start your own morning routine. You didn't have to leave for another hour, but Chuuya had to get to work within the next 30 minutes. After brushing your teeth, you notice Chuuya searching the bedroom for his usual hat.

"The nightstand." You point out to him. He sees it and lets out a sigh of relief, grabbing it and plopping it on his head. "Thanks, doll. I gotta get going' now, but I'll see ya tonight, okay?" He says, pulling you in by your waist for his daily goodbye kiss. "Yeah, got it." You smile before kissing him sweetly for a quick moment before he backs away. "Alright, I love you, see ya later." He playfully smacks your ass before letting go of you and heading out to the door. "Bye Chuuya, I love you, I'll see you later!" Once you heard him leave, you smiled to yourself and headed right back to the closet. You didn't necessarily have to get dressed just yet, so that gave you some time to try on a couple more hats on your own.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

• Fyodor doesn't mind letting you borrow his cape if you seem cold, or he'll simply wrap it around you and pull you into his side. He prefers the latter, considering it doesn't take much for him to get chilly.

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Fyodor held your gloved hand in his as you both walked down the snowy streets of Yokohama. It was the winter solstice and you both decided to take a walk down one of the most popular roads and do some window shopping. By the end of the evening, the hand that wasn't occupied with holding Fyodors held a warm cup of hot chocolate that you sipped on periodically. "Have you enjoyed yourself tonight, Myshka?" He asks you, adjusting his ushanka and gazing up at the sky, noticing some snow start to fall. "I did. Thanks for coming with me, I know you have a lot of stuff to do." You respond, bringing the cup to your lips for another sip. He waves his hand dismissively. "That doesn't mean I can't accompany you." His thumb rubs over your knuckles as snow starts landing on his hat and your head, the street lamps illuminating the darkness with a tangerine-colored glow. You nod at his words, leaning into his shoulder and shivering.

"It's so cold, Fedya." You say, your head on his shoulder and your hand squeezing his tightly. He lets go in order to put his arm around your waist, pulling his long cape over your shoulder. "I know, the walk home isn't much further, don't worry." You smile and hold onto the old, worn material to keep it in place. "You're right, thanks." You say, feeling butterflies in your stomach. It never mattered how long you and Fyodor had been together, every affectionate action made you feel like you had just got together. He held you close with his cape still shielding you from the cold and adding a layer of warmth to your jacket. He would peer over at you every now and again, laughing under his breath at all the snow that was getting into your hair. "What's so funny?" You ask him, a smile spread acrossed your face. "You've got a whole bunch of snow on your head." He tells you. "It looks like dandruff."

You roll your eyes and yank the ushanka off of his head, placing it on yours instead. "There, now you won't have to look at it." You hold the fluffy hat on top of your head and try to prevent him from taking it back when he tugs on it. "No, you can get your own, my ears are cold." He says with a smile, eventually pulling it back into his own possession and patting it off. "I will say though, you look better in my hat than Dazai did." You give a proud smirk and rest your head on his shoulder. "I'd hope you'd think so." Your street comes into view and you pull him along as you speed up, wanting to get into the warm, cozy house as soon as possible. "I know running isn't exactly your thing but pick up the pace a little, I wanna get under the covers and cuddle." You tell him, getting closer to home with each passing second.

He picks up speed for you and listens to the sound of your feet hitting the pavement. It's not long before you've pulled him all the way home and you're unlocking the door, nearly spilling inside to get into the warm living room. Fyodor follows suit, unlacing his shoes and hanging up his cape and ushanka. You wait for him in the open doorway that connects the living room and the hallway, ready to curl up in bed away from the harsh cold. "Alright, I'm coming." He says, treading through the hall with you and opening the bedroom door. His hand rested on your lower back as you both walked to the comfortable mattress, crawling under the covers and pulling each other close. "Your cape is really warm and comfortable. You should wrap me in it more often." You say, scooching closer to him and letting his arm drape over your waist.

"Hmm, I guess that wouldn't hurt. You really like it?" He peers down at you, his head propped up on his fist. "Yeah, I might have to steal it, actually." You say seriously, making him click his tongue. "You're welcome to steal it if I'm not wearing it." He says, chewing on the inside of his cheek habitually. "Then expect it to be off the hanger more often then not." He smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, laying his head down on the pillow. "Okay, that's fine, but right now you have me and the blanket to keep you warm." He murmurs, closing his eyes. "Well you're not contributing to that as much as the blanket, but whatever you say." You kiss his cheek and brush his bangs out of his face. "G'night Fedya, I love you." You say, resting your head on his chest, ready for sleep. "I love you too, y/n, sleep well."

Nikolai Gogol ★

• You always loved Nikolais outfit and couldn't help but wanna put it in one day. You were sure he wouldn't mind, after all, sharing attire was nothing foreign to your relationship.

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It started with you trying on his blouse for fun, but then you decided the blouse wasn't complete without the vest, pants, gloves, collar, shoes, or hat. Everything fit you a little differently than it fit Nikolai, but it didn't matter, because when you walked over to the nearest reflective surface, you found yourself cute, and you almost couldn't wait for Nikolai to get out of the shower to show him. You just needed one more thing, his cape. You ran out to the coat rack by the door and swung it behind you and then over your shoulders excitedly, grabbing it by the edges and moving it around. You felt really fancy with his cape, swaying your body just to feel the fabric move with you. As a matter of fact, you were so caught up in how good the cape made you feel that you didn't even realize the bathroom door open.

"Oh, wow, dove! My outfit looks so good on you! I've never noticed how much the red gloves pop until now." You turned around so fast, as if you were sitting in silence and all of a sudden a full file cabinet tipped over and crashed onto a linoleum floor. "Wah-! When'd you get out? I mean, thank you, but you scared me!" You say with a nervous laugh. "I thought it looked cute." You murmur, starting to pull off the gloves, but he stops you. "Hey, wait, you should stay in it for a moment, I'm not done admiring you yet!" He tells you, walking over and grabbing your hands gently. He leans in to kiss you, his smile palpable on his lips. You hand falls on his shoulder, rubbing it up and down affectionately before pulling away. "You really like it that much, huh?"

He nods. "Ofcourse! Oh, I'd love to show everyone how wonderful you look. Would you let me?" He asks, squeezing your hands tightly. "Sure, Kolya, go ahead." He quickly skitters off to fetch his cellphone, returning with the camera app already open. "Pose." He says, watching you place your hands on your waist and cock your hip a little bit. "Ah, gorgeous." He says, spamming the capture button. "Okay, I think that's enough." He says, his cheeks a bit pinker than before. He tossed his phone onto one of the side tables and embraced you once again, resting his head on top of yours. "Come on, y/n, I'd like to see you in my whole wardrobe now!" He says excitedly, pulling you along back to the bedroom. You don't necessarily know what you ignited in him, but it was certainly something, and now you were preparing yourself for a god-knows-how-long fashion show for your boyfriend. Not that you really minded, ofcourse.

A/n; another post that was supposed to have sigma and then didn't have sigma because I wanted to watch Jersey shore instead of write. ALSO I WENT TO THE DENTIST YESTERDAY terrible experience I cried but don't tell anyone I said that

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wondernus · 7 months ago

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— WHY HIM?

SYNOPSIS: armed and ready at 4am, you approach your locked front door to confront the group of loud strangers trying to break into your apartment

PAIRING: fiancé!lsm x reader

GENRE: fluff, humor

TAGS: food mention, inebriated characters, post-bachelor party, brother!hvc

WC: 1.75k

MESSAGE FROM NU: hii long time no see :3 posting a dk oneshot to let you know i'm procrastinating on my final paper draft by drafting a hefty dk soulmate au i've been thinking about writing for a while. also dedicating this fic to @wongyuseokie the la to my ma

A perfectly peaceful Friday night goes to waste when you shoot up from your bed in a panicked state. It’s not the usual cat wanting to leave your room at five in the morning kind of scratching sound that lures you to open your bedroom door in a half-awake state. Instead, shuffling sounds out front and an insistent metal-to-metal sound, which you can only infer as someone trying to break into your apartment, cause you to become extremely vigilant.

Seokmin isn’t picking up his phone, but you keep his line ringing just in case he does. Doubtful that a pair of scissors can do as much damage to the head as a giant wok can, you head into the kitchen to pick up that giant carbon steel wok that you can never seem to fit into any of your kitchen drawers as a form of physical backup before you quietly approach your front door.

However, the fear that once overwhelms your body soon turns into a sigh of exasperation before you can even position yourself to look through the tiny peephole. You can clearly hear the familiar voices on the other side of the door and match each voice to its respective owner. Feeling relieved, you drop the wok on the cubby by the door and hang up the phone.

“Look, I opened it,” the man who was trying to open your door slurs with a dopey smile on his face. He doesn’t seem like he’s talking to anybody in particular. “I’m a fucking genius.”

Almost immediately after that statement, he falls forward and faceplants a couple centimeters away from your indoor slippers. Slumped to the side of his face is his hand that holds a small metal keychain between the thumb and index fingers. It’s a souvenir nameplate keychain from a family trip to another country a few years back whose design reads “Vernon” in all caps. You realize that the man near your feet didn’t even try opening the door with the key.

The actual owner of the set of keys lies on his left side while his entire body is propped against the bushes in front of your place. His legs are still surprisingly in a crisscross position, but you think it’s because his jeans restrict him from being able to unravel from the position. And when you see earbuds plugged up your brother’s nose while his mouth acts as some sort of impromptu speaker for whatever song he has playing through his earbuds, you consider the option of leaving him outside for the rest of the night. What’s even worse is that Joshua, although a little out of it, sits next to his younger friend and bobs his head to the music while lethargically reaching into his brown paper bag on his lap to grab some greasy fries. You think your brother is asleep, but you don’t know if him becoming a speaker happened pre-knocking out or post-knocking out.

“Do I want to ask why you guys are trying to break into my place at 4 a.m. in the morning or should I be concerned that only half of you guys are here?”

“Actually.” the man underneath you groans while he slowly gathers enough strength to sit upright. There is a nasty red mark on the side of his face that he doesn’t seem to know of and mind. “Saying ‘4 a.m. in the morning’ is redundant.” He points at nobody in particular with the same hand holding your brother’s set of keys and stares past your calves.

“Since you’re sober enough to be smart with me, I need your help dragging Vern and Shua into my place before the neighbors wake up and call neighborhood watch,” you gruff before stepping out of your house slippers into the sandals you keep near the door.

It turns out that there are more people scattered about the front of your place.

There is a car parallel parked against the sidewalk with what looks like two people in the car. Someone picks themself off the small grassy lawn on the other side of the bushes and trudges towards the car while pinching their temple.

Wonwoo nods at you when he passes by looking completely sober. Yet, for somebody who usually looks well-put-together, his hair is a mess while the top few buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned…no, missing. What remains are the threads that once attached the buttons to the dress shirt. You notice that he grips three different neckties in his hand but still his loose around his neck. Nevertheless, Wonwoo kicks off his dress shoes, steps over Jeonghan, enters your front door without saying a word, and knocks out on your sofa before his legs can make it onto the cushions.

You turn back to your brother. Joshua wipes his fingers on his pants before he squats on the other side of Vernon to help him up.

“Up,” you tell the both of them.

“I can’t breathe,” Vernon whines while allowing the both of you to help him stand. “My nose isn’t working.”

You sigh and yank the wired earbuds by their cords and out of his nostrils and let them drop before the older man helps his friend into your place. Bending down to grab the bag of fries that Joshua forgot, you see a disturbing amount of hair poking through the crevices of the leafy bush. Someone was dumb enough to black out in the bushes and you can’t tell who it is even after peering over the bush to look at the other half of the body.

“Jeonghan,” you hiss at the man who is trying to discreetly walk back to the car.

He looks back at you and mouths “what” while shrugging his shoulders.

You point at the head in the bush.

“It's Jihoon,” he snorts. He takes the paper bag from your hand and walks back to drop it in the wok that you put to the side before walking back to you. “I think he was supposed to give Vernon his keys but tripped and never got back up. Come to the car with me.”

“Why are you guys here?” you whispered. “I thought that you guys had the entire night planned out.”

“We had the entire night planned out. But then DK started crying and we had to end it early because he wouldn’t stop crying. And then all of us sobered up to try to help him but then it just worsened, so we drove here to get you to get him to stop crying. Some of us couldn’t deal with not being able to solve his problem and just started drinking again.”

“Is that why Jihoon is in the bushes?”

“Well, he never was the patient type,” he hums.

A quick look into the car immediately gets you to understand why someone like Jihoon would end up so drunk that he would dive headfirst into some bushes.

There are dozens of used tissues balled up and overflowing in the tiny hanging trashcan attached to the back of the passenger seat in Wonwoo’s car. There are a few in the laps of the two men sobbing next to each other in the backseats, and you make a mental note to help Wonwoo sanitize the inside of his car before he drives away in the afternoon. Seungcheol releases Seokmin’s seatbelt and looks at you with an apologetic smile on his face.

In all of the years you’ve come to know Seokmin, you have never seen his eyes this puffy.

“Sorry for showing up at your place unannounced. That must have scared you. There was a lot going on,” Seungcheol murmurs to you while giving you a quick hug. “We were making toasts to his future during the party until Vernon made a comment.”

“What did he say?” you asked him, shocked that your brother could even make a comment that would bring your fiancé to such a state.

“It wasn’t bad.” Seungcheol stepped aside from the open car door to let you squat next to your lover. “He just congratulated you on getting married but this dumbass took it the wrong way because he didn't mention Donkey Kong over here in the sentence and thinks you’re getting married to someone else.”

“Someone else!” Seokmin chokes out in a sob while slumped over on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “Why him? Why not me?”

You grab a tissue from the tissue box on the center console and dab at your future husband’s face. The traces of his tears wet the thin paper, and you can feel the heat of his skin through the tissue. With the same hand, you push the bangs stuck to his forehead and his eyelids to the side. You don’t mind that he doesn’t seem to know that you’re there taking care of him.

“Aww baby,” you coo. “I’ll get married to you, don’t worry.”

The familiarity of your comfort seems to lure your fiancé to sleep. A little further from you, Soonyoung continues to sniffle while his eyes are closed. You turn to Seungcheol and Jeonghan with your mouth open and eyebrows scrunched together.

“He’s a drunk crier…” Jeonghan’s words doesn’t leave you guessing anything. “And also Minghao opened his mouth during the bachelor party.” He scratches the back of his head as a sign of stress and embarrassment before looking at Seungcheol and cocking his head at the two knocked out in the car.

Jeonghan has the easier job of coaxing Soonyoung awake to walk him into your place. Seungcheol, on the other hand, takes it upon himself to swing the entire weight of your limp boyfriend like a large sack of rice over his shoulder.

“Do you need me to help with anything?” you ask him.

You don’t know what time it is anymore. The sky is getting brighter, and the temperature is warming up. Your partner looks finally peaceful in his sleep.

“Nah.” Seungcheol softly brushes your request aside. “We’ve already caused enough trouble for you.”

“I feel like I should be the one apologizing,” you joke while trailing behind Seungcheol just in case he needed any help readjusting the body.

“You don’t have to apologize for him.” His words are sincere. “He loves you, you know. He cried his heart out just because he loves you. There’s nothing to apologize for. To be loved is to be cared for. Go back to bed, we’ll probably wake up around dinner time.”

“Do you think anybody grabbed Jihoon?”

#seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seokmin imagines #seokmin fluff #svthub #seokmin x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #dk imagines #dk fluff #dk x reader #wondernus imagines

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filled-with-fat · 14 days ago

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I’m obsessed with fast food 🤤🍔🍔😍

It started innocently enough—a craving for something quick and tasty. Fast food was a convenient way to grab a bite to eat during busy days, in fact there was a McDonalds located just opposite from where I worked. However, over time, something changed. What was once a sporadic indulgence became a routine. A ritual.

At first, it was the drive-thru at lunch. A greasy, satisfying burger or a salty serving of fries to get me through the midday slump. But then, I began to notice the thrill. The anticipation as I neared the Golden Arches and began to recite my order to the cashier, the crinkling of paper bags as I received my food, the first bite. The flavors hit my tongue in a way that felt like a small, delicious rebellion against the demands of the day. The juicy, succulent burger patties, and the extra salty fries, soothed my cravings. Soon, this daily ritual wasn’t just about food anymore—it was about the escape it offered. For those brief moments sat in my car, the world was still whilst I devoured my food.

Gradually, my fast food habit developed beyond a cheeky drive thru during lunch breaks. It became an hourly affair. I’d wake up early, feeling a strange, almost magnetic pull to the nearest fast food joint. I'd drive through, getting a breakfast sandwich or a hash brown. Turning up to work having already eaten delicious greasy food made mornings feel less mundane. A few hours later, I'd return for lunch—another burger, another round of fries. Then dinner. And sometimes, a late-night snack.

It wasn’t that I didn’t know it wasn’t good for me. I’d read the articles, I’d hear the warnings. I knew the nutritional stats, the risks. But somehow, the allure of it all—the speed, the simplicity, the TASTE— it was all too powerful to resist. I found myself almost living at fast food joints. Food became my crutch, a way to fill an empty space I couldn't name. Stress? It soothed me. Boredom? It entertained me. Loneliness? It was always there. An answer to any problem I faced, was waiting for me in a paper bag.

My friends noticed. They'd raise an eyebrow when I suggested another fast food run. “Don't you think you’re overdoing it?” They would say, concern laced in their voice. But I shrugged it off, my chubby fingers still greasy from the last meal. I had an answer for everything: “It’s just easier,” “It’s just a treat,” “I like it.” Simple, uncomplicated.

But deep down, I knew the truth. It wasn’t just about convenience or taste anymore. It had become something darker, something harder to shake off. I craved it the way someone craves a drug. I was so deeply obsessed with fast food, and it had taken its toll on my body. Gone were the days that I could fit into a single seat, or button up my trousers without my husband’s help. Yet, despite the fact that my addiction had morphed my body into a pathetic lump of lard, I couldn’t stay away from fast food for more than an hour at a time. I was beyond obsessed.

#fat #fat as fuck #fat piggy #fat moobs #fat arms #gay fatty #fatboy #immobile feedee #fatty #big fatty #too fat #death feederism #fat man #fatass #guys gaining weight #gaining weight on purpose #gay gaining

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trashmouth-richie · 2 years ago

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Eddie x Fem!reader

master list

summary: feelings burst. Fluffy. Fluffy fluffy. Eddie helps reader when she finds herself in a bind.

warnings: no minors gtfo- eventual smut in the series.

W.C: 11.8k 🫣

A/N: per usual thank you the my beta readers @sweetsweetjellybean

Clunk

Clunk clunk humm

You were already late for work this morning and now this? Must be a fucking Monday. This must be that bitch karma’s payback for you talking shit about Eddie’s van the other night when he backed it up to the garage to unload some shit he salvaged from the junkyard.

“You would think that since you’re a mechanic, you could tune up that piece of shit so it isn’t so fucking loud.”

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, unloading another arm load of car parts from the back of the van to the middle of the garage, “don’t dog on the shaggin’ wagon, you know how much ass I get in this thing?”

The unspoken agreement you had with Eddie the other night after spilling your guts about your past, gave you more patience towards him than ever before. Instead of finding him repulsive, you two were almost friends.

“No I don’t and also I don’t care.” you say taking a bite of a ham sandwich.

“More than a public toilet seat,” Eddie boasts, “Ladies love it, feel like I’m Shaggy or something.”

More like his other four-legged snack-loving friend.

“I really hope you use a rubber, don’t wanna extend the Munson blood line anymore than you have to,” you bite back.

“Oh sweetheart, I always wrap it with the groupies, especially watching Jas bounce from Gareth, to Big D to Walt all in one night.”

“Well look at you, Mr. Perfect bill of health.”

Eddie smiles widely a stupid grin plastered on his face, “I’m so good at the doctors they even give me a sticker. ”

Now here you are, stranded at the gas station east of town, past Merrill’s pumpkin patch. Losing all faith in your sanity, you slam your hand into the steering wheel one more time. Your chunky boots clunk across the pavement as you pull the door towards you, a dingy brass bell dings overhead, alerting the gas station attendant that someone has entered the store.

“Back again?” the balding creep with the greasy combover presses. His coke bottle thick glasses full of breakfast pizza slime from his fingers from pushing them up on in place after sliding down the oils on his nose. A brown paper bag with orange spray paint sitting next to it sat on the counter, and a tinge of orange around his mouth.

With no time for small talk or shooting the shit with the local bachelors of Hawkins, you simply need to borrow the phone and call… fuck. You didn’t want to have to call Boom’s, but the other shops didn’t open yet, and you didn’t know any of them. The decision was made.

“I need to use the phone,” you say laying your hands on the counter.

“No can do, this is a business line,” he spits, bits of his barely chewed breakfast falling from his over stuffed mouth.

Irritated beyond belief you say through gritted teeth, “What? My car broke down, I need to have it towed.”

Showing no sympathy, the combover greaseball says, “That sucks, don’t it,” a throaty chuckle erupts from him. Clearly the man got off from making next to little effort in helping someone.

“Listen,” you say peering over the counter to read the slobs name tag, “Ralph— you’re going to give me the goddamn phone so I can get my car towed, or I’m going to tell your boss about your little huffing habit. Got it?”

His cheeks crimson at your threat, “…what’s the number?”

After dialing it wrong three times, Ralph’s oversized fingers and his altered mind getting hung up on where the 4 was on the dusty rotary phone, you hastily reach across the counter and grab it and the Hawkins phone book. Flipping through the worn yellow pages, finding the number yourself and slotting your fingers in the appropriate places to get the number correct, it finally starts ringing.

Angrily tapping your foot, the serenade of dial tone ringing loud in your ear.

“Boom’s” a bored voice says, after ehat seems like hours of waiting.

“Hey, — is Eddie there?��

A scoff is heard from the other end of the phone, followed by an annoyed voice, “Why who wants to know?”

You don’t have time for childish games with whoever this fucking prick is. “Jesus Christ what is it with assholes today? Is he there or no?”

“I don’t know, you stupid bitch— why don’t you tell me if Eddie is here or—”

A scuffle is heard as the phone falls to the ground.

“What the fuck did I tell you? Huh? I’ll drop your ass just name the time and place mother fuck— hello?”

“Eddie?” You ask exhaustedly.

“Tooty? Oh shit, you miss me so much you’re making calls to my work?”

“E—” you begin, frustration rising.

“Or did you call to gossip? Ooooh, tell me all about the salon drama, is it that blonde again, damn just slap her already I know you want to.”

“Ed—!”

“Shit if you’re worried about going to jail I’ll come bail y—”

“Edward Joseph Munson!”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, “Did you just use my full name? I only hear that when I’m in trouble with Wayne.”

“Will you listen to me?! I need help. I’m at the gas station east of town and my car won’t start.”

“What? What happened?” Eddie asks, his joking tone immediately fading to concern.

“I have no idea, but I’m already late for work—can you come pick me up?”

“Usually this is where a please would be.”

“Eddie!”

“Ooh even begging?”

“Goddamnit,” you say under your breath, “Eddie will you please, come get me?”

“That a girl, see that wasn’t so hard. So where are you?”

Eddie rolls up in an old orange and white tow truck, head banging with a cigarette hanging limply from his bottom lip. “So what happened?”

“Well I drove here, got gas, and then it just wouldn’t start.”

“Damn, I wonder if your starter is out.”

“Great, so what the hell does that mean?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it is that or not, but if it’s not that— it means that your car is probably going to need more work than it’s worth, but I won’t know until I get it in the shop.”

“Son of a bitch.” you curse, covering your face with your hands and tipping your head back up to the sky. Could this fucking day get any worse?

After buying the house last year, your savings were completely wiped out, the last few months you had been pinching pennies trying to build it back up

“I’ll tow it, but I don’t think Boom has any loaners right now,” Eddie explains, “but since I’m such a kind, handsome, good roommate….”

You roll your eyes.

“I’ll bring you to work.”

Shock evident on your face, “You sure?”

“I mean its either that or the city bus, and last I checked—Hawkins doesn’t have one.”

Eddie agrees to give you a ride until your car is fixed on one condition, the band gets to use the garage for practices again. Too tired to fight with him, you give in.

He backs the truck up, moving the steering wheel with one hand the other hanging out of the window, his tongue poked out through his lips. He jumps down from the truck and maneuvers the wheel lift into place by your front tires.

The muscles in his forearms jut out, tattoos dancing with each movement and covered in a thin sheet of sweat as he grabs the chains from the flatbed and hooks them along your front tires, securing them into place. Your car is lifted slightly giving enough clearance to be able to tow.

“Ready?”

Bouncing along side Eddie in the tow truck you sigh heavily, “fuck, I hate Mondays.”

“Okay, Garfield,” Eddie chuckles, turning down the radio and glancing towards you, a cigarette balanced between his teeth, “could always be worse,” he digs into his front pocket for his pack of cigarettes and hands them to you.

You smile weakly and take the pack from him, plucking a tanned filter from the pack and shoving it between your lips. Before you can even say that your lighter is in the car, he’s leaning over. A scratched zippo with a fading design on it, in his hand already flicked open, the flame threatening to go out with the help of the lazy breeze through the open driver’s side window. It’s the same lighter he’s had since you first bummed a cigarette from him when you were thirteen.

Leaning towards him you put the cigarette into the flame, inhaling deep— the cowboy killers burning the pinky tissue of your lungs. He flicks the lighter closed with a metallic snap and smiles out of the corner of his mouth at you. Suddenly your lungs aren’t the only thing burning.

“Thanks,” you say, trying to avoid the skips in your stomach, “I usually prefer menthols, but I guess, these’ll do,”

“Always gotta bust my balls dontchya?” Eddie laughs, a stream of smoke billowing out from his nose. “Hey, uh— I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but that gas station is rated 5 stars on the creepiest place in town.”

You glare your eyes at him, absolutely not having it, “they have cheap gas.”

“There’s a reason for that, and every drug dealer in town sells out of there,” Eddie scolds.

“You would know,” you say in a hateful tone.

“You’re right,” Eddie protests, looking at you earnestly, “I would know— it’s not a good place to be— no matter what time of day, so stay away from it.”

You knew he was trying to look out for you, and from what Steve said, — he blamed himself for the things Chad did to you. But it was never his fault, he didn’t know just like most of Hawkins didn’t. You lived with the Wheeler’s and not even they noticed until you walked home that night. You decide to let it be. For once in your life agreeing to what he had to say.

“Alright,”

Boom’s was on the opposite side of town, the rest of the drive you listened to Eddie hum along to the radio and snuck a peek at him playing air guitar. Despite him being so foul, and a royal pain in the ass, he was actually a decent human being.

No other men in their twenties could help you through your panic attack, aside from Steve. But Eddie? He was different from Steve in ways that you couldn’t grasp. You didn’t find yourself staring at Steve. Even if you had been swimming with him on more occasions than you can count. Sure he was good looking, but you never once understood why the girls at the pool practically flocked to him. Eddie hardly ever wore a shirt around you and your stomach ached each time you saw his broad shoulders and tattoos. Steve was like a brother to you, he scolded you and gave you advice, all with his hands permanently attached to his hips. A mother hen among his friends. Eddie teased and taunted you, his irritating behavior and the way he chewed his food, the way his hair was everywhere in the bathroom, the way his hair looked when he was fresh out of the shower, a towel slung on his hips. The way his hips made a ‘V’, small trail of hair from his belly button to his waistband. Fuck.

Is it hot in here?

What the hell were you doing?

There’s no way.

No fucking way.

Nope, not today.

Not ever.

…

But what if?

Eddie couldn’t understand what was going on with you in the passenger seat. Instead of bitching at him like normal, you were staring out the window. Looking as if you were fighting a storm in your cute little head. Maybe you were reliving the past. Silently suffering through something that he should have been there to stop. But judging from your reflection against the dirty window, you didn’t seem to be crying.

After that night, Eddie was putting in more effort to make sure you felt safe. He gave you distance. Avoided the bathroom in the morning, and stopped making dick jokes altogether. He still joked around, still acted like an idiot— but his perverted meter was dipped into the green zone, the safety net.

He meant what he said, you didn’t have to be afraid with him around. And he would do whatever he could to prove that to you. So when you called Boom’s earlier and asked for help— he dropped everything to make the trek across town to pick you up. Especially when you told him the gas station you were at. Known for being the skeeziest one in town, he worried about you being there alone.

Seeing the tow truck pull into the parking lot, Sean and Aaron had their noses pressed against the glass, the cheap flimsy blinds hung crooked over their heads.

“Damn,” Aaron exclaims, “you were right, that is her.”

“Told you, Munson hasn’t shut up about her since he moved in. Wonder if Chad knows where she’s been hiding.”

Eddie parks the tow truck and you both climb out. He gives you the keys to his van and tells you he’d be right back. Walking into the shop with a whistle on his tongue, he goes into Boom’s office. He’s sitting at a worn down wooden desk. Papers, and receipts clutter space where a framed family picture might be. A steaming styrofoam cup of coffee in Boom’s left hand suggested he stopped at the donut mart, and a dozen of glazed holes from heaven would be sitting in the break room, their sweetness tantalizing the crew all day.

Eddie raps his knuckles against the yellowed paint by the door frame.

‘Yep,” Boom chirps without looking up, reading the daily arrest records in the Hawkins Post.

“Hey, I brought Tooty’s Escort back, I’m going to bring her to work quick and when I get back I’ll move it.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Boom gripes, not looking up from the paper, sipping the coffee slowly.

“Dunno, I’ll take a look at it— “ Eddie shifts his weight from one foot to another, “I was wondering if I could maybe work on it after hours, or on the weekends.”

Boom considers what Eddie is saying, “off the clock?”

“Yeah, or maybe I could take some of my tools home? Work on it there?”

Boom thinks for a while, taking a sip of his coffee. His pudgy finger hovering near the name “William Hargrove” mulling over if he knew him. He finally looks up, “Whatever you wanna do, Eddie, you’ve got keys—I trust you.” Boom offers, “just don’t let those other two jackasses know what you’re doing and who for— that’s all they’ve been yappin’ about since you left this morning.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I’m just helping out a friend, don’t know why they give a fuck.”

“Personally, I don’t give a shit— but you’re my best mechanic, and those other two are on their last strike with me. One more time I read their name in this paper and they’re both out of here, and when that time comes— I’m sure they’ll be lookin’ for someone to blame.”

The familiar scent of stale weed and a spilled rotting beer in the back of the van flood your nose. Even though his van was a dirty pile of shit and it stunk like hell, you’re thankful for Eddie taking time out of his day to help you.

He could have easily told you to fuck off, hung up on you the minute you called. But he didn’t. He kept good on his word even when he didn’t have to. He doesn’t owe you anything and yet here he was, proving to you again, that he could be someone to rely on. You peer at him through your lashes, falling deep into a spell of fondness. He was always clean shaven, showing off his babyish features. If you didn’t know his age you wouldn’t guess he was over twenty two, his youthful pale skin a glow like the moon across a lake at midnight. The deep browns of his eyes squint in the bright sun, his dark eyelashes almost kissing his cheeks. His thick ringed fingers tapping on the steering wheel as ‘Holy Diver’ plays gently in the background. The bob of his Adam's apple jutting out as he swallows and takes a drag from a cigarette.

You barely recognize your own voice when you say barely above a whisper, “thank you, by the way— not just for today but for the other night,” your fingers go back to the same nervous habit, twiddling the end of your cream lettuce hem shirt.

“Of course,” he says, a look of shock on his face, “I know I like to give you shit, but I wouldn’t leave you stranded somewhere.” He looks over at you lazily and smiles. The kind of smile associated with cool guys on tv, the kind of smile that’s crooked and truly only on one side of the face. And for the first time, you smile too, letting the warmth radiate through your body, venturing into places that you have to readjust your crossed legs to avoid entirely.

Pulling into the backlot of the salon, where you and Nancy smoke cigarettes and read trash magazines, you jump out thanking him again, the creak of the door slamming back into the frame as you wave goodbye.

“What time?” Eddie yelled after you, silently admiring the way the sun catches your face, highlighting your features, the slight breeze catching your hair, he can’t help the smile that dances on his lips. “What time are you off work?”

Walking back to him, he’s leaning his head back on the head rest, an arm hanging out of the window, a stupid grin on his face.

“My last client is at five and it’s just a cut, so probably six o’clock, why?” A creep of jittery shock threatens your nerves, fluttering your stomach and sending waves of fluster through your body.

“Thought I’d pick you up, unless you wanna walk home?” He smirks, tracing the small paint chip near where his fingers set on the door.

Biting your lip and moving back on your heels you make your way back to the door, “Okay.”

“Alright, I’ll be back at six.”

“Six” you repeat, turning on your heel and walking into the salon.

Eddie has thought about you all day, the cards of life and the hand you were dealt were shitty. But he was happy he was around to help in any little way he could. He thought maybe he was crazy, seeing shit when you smiled at him, a sort of shyness in the way you flirted by dipping your head into your shoulder almost giddy at him picking you up.

But that couldn’t be.

The rest of your day was monotonous. Shampoo sets, perms, cuts, rinse and repeat. The long haired metalhead hardly left your mind. When it’s just you and Josie left in the salon after your last appointment, it’s 5:30. She sits down, exhaling loudly. Her long dark braids trailing to her waist, cascade down the length of the chair as she leans back.

“Broke down again? Girl, you need a car that actually works.” Her hot pink fingernails dip into a bag of skittles, popping them into her mouth.

“I know,” you sigh, throwing yourself into your salon chair, “hopefully in the next few months I’ll have enough saved to get myself a new one.”

“So how did you get here? If we had someone else in the salon today I would have came and picked you up,” her mouth puckered into a sucking expression as she pops another skittle into her mouth.

“My roommate… he works at Boom’s so he towed it there and then brought me to work,” you express nonchalantly.

“Ooh the rich one who you used to work with?”

“Steve?” You say with a laugh, “No, Eddie Munson.”

“Eddie Munson? Why does that name sound so familiar? Ohh the infamous Hawkins bad boy, my cousins used to run around with him, some club or somethin’ ”

“Yeah, that's him, he’s turned himself around quite a bit since high school though.” The annoying need to defend him is obvious in your tone.

Josie’s eyes go wide, “Wait—“ she says, pointing a pink nail at you, “he had a girlfriend. He’s living with you? Shit, you’re a brave one.”

Heat creeps to your cheeks, the thought of Eddie having a secret girlfriend that you didn’t know about was almost torture on your soul, “no, no girlfriend… that I’m aware of at least.”

Speak of the devil and he will be present.

Opening the door with the sun waning behind him, peeking an orangy-yellow glow through his unruly curls, stood Eddie. His coveralls are full of motor oil and brake fluid. Black grease is smeared across his face, and his hands. Bandana still snug around his head.

“Oh shit,” Eddie blurts, eyes scanning around the room, bouncing from your face to Josie’s. Clearly uncomfortable in such a clean establishment. “Sorry, I’m uhh, a little early.”

Josie’s eyebrows are turned up in shock, her mouth slightly agape. “Damn, you’re the roommate!?”

Before she can embarrass you any further you blurt, “Josie, this is Eddie,” holding out a hand and pointing, introducing him to her, “Eddie this is my boss and the owner of the salon, Josie.”

Eddie waves with his fingers, “so you’re the one lookin’ after our girl here, the mechanic?” Josie asks.

“Uhh, yeah that’s me.” he puts a hand on the back of his neck and rubs it slow

Josie stands and walks towards you, a clicking of her heels and munching on her candy as she grabs your hand and drags you upwards, dragging you to the back of the salon.

Eddie looks around the room. The salon is decorated in light washes of pink and green and flowers decorate almost every surface, White painted baskets hang from the ceiling holding fake flowers. The salon chairs are black as are the mats under them. Green sinks in the back and cabinets overhead. Two mirrors on each wall and station with a name and family pictures decorate them. Eddie can’t help but notice that where you were sitting, there are only three pictures. A photo of you and Nancy looking like it was taken last summer, you’re holding up the keys to the blue ranch style house he now calls home. Another picture is of you Robin and Steve, in green Family Video Vests in front of the counter. You and Robin are both pulling one of Steve’s ears and he’s making a monkey face. The last picture is of you and Eyeball as kids, a portrait more than likely taken at a JC Penney’s.

“Don’t forget to lock up, okay? Enjoy your day off tomorrow. Eddie, be good to her!” Josie calls from the back, the heavy metal door slamming as she leaves for the night, a smile painted on her lips, shaking her head.

You walk back towards Eddie, he’s sitting in your chair, poking around at all of the different brushes and curling irons that were on your station. Your tired eyes scan him and find him in the mirror. “What is all this shit?”

“My tools to style, cut and color people’s hair.”

You’re standing behind him. You hesitantly grab one of his curls in between your fingers, noting how silky and smooth his hair is despite the split ends. “You could probably use a trim, Eddie. When was the last time you had your hair cut?”

“You think these curls have been in a salon? Please! I cut it myself thank you,”

“I can tell,” you mutter under your breath, going full hog and untying his sweaty bandana and tossing it onto the counter. “Come on, let’s go wash your hair, and then I’m gonna give you a trim.”

“You’re not cutting my hair.” Eddie protests, arms crossed and resisting.

“Your ends are dead, if you don’t take care of it now, it’ll keep going further up and then you’ll have to shave your head.”

Eddie practically trips standing up quickly. “Those are fighting words.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?” You ask in a bored tone.

“Actually no, but— okay fine! Only because you went to some fancy school.”

Eddie stomps over to the sink and sits down with a plop in the smooth cushioned black chair. You follow behind him and place your apron back around your neck, tightening it around your back. You lean his chair back telling him to lift his head from the headrest as you gather his curls into the basin.

Turning on the water and testing the temperature on your wrist, like a mother testing a bottle making sure it isn’t too hot for a baby, you gently put the spray into the ends of Eddie’s hair, gently working the spray up the length of his head to his scalp.

“Is the water okay?”

“Ow, holy shit!” Eddie yelps, his body flopping around like a fish out of water. You immediately turn the faucet the other way, apologizing profusely until you realize Eddie is shaking with laughter.

“Oh fuck, … you…” more laughing as he chokes out his words, “should have seen your face.” He mimics your face and bursts into a fit of giggles, you aren’t sure how long he would have kept it up if you didn’t put the hose directly into his face and throw a towel at him.

“Wipe that grin off your face or I’ll wax your eyebrows.” You spit at him, letting out a small laugh.

Mumbling from under the towel is faint but you swear you hear the word bikini.

Eddie finished cleaning his face and lays his head back into the sink again, you don’t ask this time but immediately start wetting his hair. “So,” he says, closing his eyes, so water won’t get in them, “I think I figured out what is wrong with your car.”

“Oh really? Is it going to be an easy fix?”

Not wanting to admit to you that he was working on your car for free or that he would borrow as many tools as he had to to get your car fixed, he settles for a half truth.

“Shouldn’t be too bad, gotta get some parts ordered for it.”

You let out a groan, “oh God— how much are they?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I just said, don’t worry about it, now treat me like one of your clients and tell me all the hot gossip in your life.”

Taking three giant pumps from the white shampoo bottle in the cabinet, you gently massage it into his scalp. Letting the cool smooth pearlescent liquid suds up. His hair feels like brown ropes of silk in your hands. All the years of having your hands in someone else’s hair were nothing compared to the odd feeling of lightly working the suds into Eddie’s mane. Baby soft. Luxurious in ways that contradicted the metalhead image he wore so well like a coat of armor.

You weren’t the only one admiring the way his hair felt in your hands.

Eddie is fighting hard not to melt into a puddle right there in Josie’s salon. Your hands were like magic against his scalp, your nails lightly scratching small circles against his skull. He was sure he’d fall asleep if he kept his eyes closed for any longer. It was the closest thing he could compare to what heaven would be like. Hints of tropical coconut mixed with crushed pineapple filled the air. He didn’t even realize you were talking until he opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of your mouth moving over him. Your face was concentrating on the story that you were telling, but it fell on deaf ears. He was in a trance. The scrape of your nails against his head was almost pornographic to him. The way your eyes were trained on the job at hand. The way your lips parted and moved as you told the story. The animated look in your eyes, sparkling with each slow blink, your eyelashes teasing him.

He had never noticed the features of your face before. Usually if he was this close you were staring up at him and pointing one of those glorious fingernails into his chest, yelling at him— eyebrows pulled in, your face set in a scowl. But now here you were, scratching an itch he didn’t know he had. Filling a void he wasn’t aware was missing. He could die right now and he wouldn’t even know it. It was almost orgasmic the way you were making him feel, all with just simply washing his hair.

He caught himself before you could notice it. He crossed his legs and willed himself to think of anything else. Shutting his eyes and imagining the least sexy thing he could think of. Not wanting to ruin the moment between you both and make you never want to trust him again because he had got an accidental semi while staring at you while you were wrist deep in shampoo, scrubbing his scalp like a woman in the 1800s washing clothes on a board in the creek bed.

Nobody had ever washed his hair before, that he could remember at least. He never wanted it to end.

“…but that’s crazy right? Like she’s a psycho!” The hazy fog of lust finally left Eddie’s mind, his other four senses returning. Looking at your face and seeing that you were hurt by the story you had explained, and ashamed that he wasn’t even listening, he agreed, not even knowing if he should.

“What a bitch.”

You giggled, smiling down at him. Finally realizing you had been scrubbing his hair for almost five minutes, lost in the story. A stupid distraction to force yourself away from the feeling of the silk length of his hair, the way it felt in your fingers. Not wanting to let it slip away. You gather it all in one hand and grab the hose with the other, starting at the crown of his forehead, you rinse the suds from his hair.

Bubbles circle the basin. Disappearing down the drain along with the same shared feelings of lust and yearning. Shoved down deep away from the surface, hidden beneath hardened surfaces, shielded away from the inner depths of the softening heart.

You ended up cutting half an inch from Eddie’s curls, careful to not lose yourself in his hair again, almost cutting yourself in the process. Hee watched with wide sad brown eyes with each snip. “It’s like I’m watching you cut parts of my soul away.”

You roll your eyes, “It’ll grow back, and when it does it’ll be healthier and longer.”

His bangs were the next to be trimmed, not even half an inch taken off. You place a leave-in conditioner spray to keep his curls soft and to help with the tangles. Knowing full well that Eddie didn’t even own a hair brush.

When you finish and are sweeping up his curls, Eddie stands shaking his head like a dog and running his fingers through it. “Alright, I’ll admit, it does feel better.”

Since the agreement was made for the band to practice every other day of the week in the garage, Eddie had been bringing you to work, and picking you up. On days the band wouldn’t be practicing, when he dropped you at home, he would leave immediately after, sometimes not showing up again until midnight. Coming home tired as all hell, and just like you had done weeks before, a Tupperware of food with instructions on how to warm it up taped to the lid, would be waiting for him in the fridge, each and every time.

There was no more yelling from you when the three members of Corroded Coffin showed up. There were also no more beer cans or greasy food wrappers on the ground either. Instead a trash can sat in the corner, and Eddie paid for pizza after you ordered it.

Actually the band was pretty good. You would never tell him that, that would simply go to his head. And with the ego he already had, he didn’t need another boost of confidence, leave that for the groupies. So every Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday night the band got together, playing covers from their beloved 80’s metal Gods and sometimes original songs they would write. All of them thankful that you let them practice in the garage, Big D picking you up into a bear hug and swinging you around like a rag doll.

“Jesus Christ, D, this is why the ladies run from you, you’re too aggressive, put her down!” Eddie barks. A pang of burning in his chest at the sight of you in someone else’s arms.

Big D sets you down and apologizes, “sorry Toots, and hey speaking of ladies, whatever happened with you and those hotter than hell twins?”

“Oh shit, Gareth hollered, “Fuck dude they were all over him, surprised he’s even able to walk with the way they were strung around him like cats in heat. You usually can’t wait to tell us about it, bragging until the next gig about it at least.”

“That’s cause he probably didn’t do shit, too chicken shit to handle them.”

Your stomach flips, so it wasn’t something you remembered wrong, there were two girls that Eddie had brought home that night. A strange feeling of angst washes over you, coating your mind with uncertainty mixed with inadequacy. Your cheeks warm, embarrassed by the way you are feeling. Excusing yourself to go order the pizza, you don’t see the way Eddie dismisses the guys, blowing them off with a “why don’t we keep our sexcapades to ourselves.” Or the way he throws a full beer at Big D.

After ordering the Corroded Coffin special, two large pepperonis, two large sweet and swine, and an extra large order of cheesy breadsticks— you go into the cupboard and bring out several bags of chips and five paper plates. Your favorite, sour cream and onion, and Eddie’s favorite, cool ranch Doritos. You let your mind wander. Thinking about him with those two girls. Realizing this is probably where he went at night after he dropped you off.

No need to feel like that when he was just your roommate, you shake the jealousy from your head. Just Eddie. Barely a friend. Yet he was still going out of his way to take you to work every day, till doing the chores you both shared. You let the silly feelings drop, carrying the chips and plates to the garage, shutting the door behind you. Pulling up your usual lawn chair, listen to the band play and finish painting your toenails.

When the boys end the song, they start again on the conversation they had started before playing, “dude I’m not dressing up as KISS again this year,” Jeff whines to Gareth “took me forever to get that white paint off my face. And don’t even get me started on the eyeliner.”

A spray of beer soaks the ground as Eddie spits it out, laughing hysterically about the memory of watching Jeff struggle lining his eyes like Paul Stanley. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “yeah I agree, I’m not painting your ugly mugs again this year, what else are you thinkin’?”

“We could all be different villains from scary movies. Freddy, Jason, Michael Myers’s, and Pinhead.” Big D suggests, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Nah, no chicks wanna fuck something scary. I don’t know about you— but I tried all of last Halloween to get some tail and no girl would even look my way with all that clown paint on.” Gareth huffs twirling his drum sticks in his fingers.

“What about you Tooty?” Eddie asks earnestly, “Do you and Robin go bar hoppin’ on Halloween or do you usually stay home like an old lady knitting sweaters and handing out black licorice and molding fruit?”

Making a face at him, you paint the last coat of polish on your toe nail. “Actually, Nancy and I usually throw a party. Costume contests, kegs, beer pong… we kinda go all out.”

Eddie picks his jaw up from the floor, scoffing, “no way— Nancy Wheeler and you, throwing a rager on Halloween? I don’t buy it.”

“Call Steve and ask him, he’s the reigning Cherry Lane Halloween costume contest winner for two years running.” You say with a smirk on your lips, stretching your legs and crossing them at your ankles, the pretty maroon polish catching the dim light in the garage. “You guys are more than welcome to come, obviously it’s on Halloween night, and the only stipulation is to bring a good costume, and $5 for the keg.”

Eddie moves his tongue over his teeth, twisting his body to look at his band mates, all three of them shrugging and nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be here,

“Yeah, if you think you’re up for it. Sure.” You say nonchalantly.

The smell of mildew and damp carpet currently being air dried with a fan stung your nose. The soggy basement and the crumbling foundation of Sally’s Secondhand in downtown Hawkins was a hidden gem and only open in the afternoons on Mondays and Wednesdays, but they had decent prices and good quality items when you were in a pinch if you could learn to breathe through your mouth for the time you were there.

“So how’s the roomie situation going?” Nancy asks, holding up a hand mixer with two mixing parts and a wooden handle labeled for .10¢. You had scored gold when you found a gently used, practically brand new waffle iron. It was wedged between two cook books for only $2. The same one Karen Wheeler had used on Sunday mornings. You were hunting for discounted Halloween decorations still not sure on what you were going to dress as and Halloween was this Saturday, Nancy was searching for spare camera parts for Jonathan and a toy cowboy hat for her costume that she wouldn’t tell you about.

Putting a masking taped bundle of forks into the blue plastic grocery basket, your forks magically kept disappearing everytime Eddie brought leftovers to work, you let out a sigh, “It’s going okay, better than it was in the beginning. He’s fixing my car up and I cut his hair a few weeks ago. I um.. also told him about Chad.”

Nancy stops dead in her tracks, blue eyes wide, her small mouth agape, “wh-what?!” Nancy was shocked at the news, you nonchalantly delivered like saying ‘fine’ when some asked how you were. She knew how frightening that situation was for you, it was scary for her too. Seeing someone she loved and cared about hurt in ways she couldn’t even fathom.

“We ran into him while getting groceries—like a month ago. I had a full blown panic attack, and Eddie, he helped me through it.” You go into detail explaining everything that had happened. Leaving out the part of you being comforted by Eddie and the gentle way his thick hands caressed you while you sobbed into him like a child who lost their cat.

Nancy's face goes from shock and softens into content, “wow, honestly didn’t think he had a caring bone in his body, he always seemed like such an asshole.”

“I mean he still is, don’t get me wrong— I don’t think he’s giving donations to the local churches or anything, but he seems a little more reserved, if you will,” you say, adding a floral embroidered set of towels for every day of the week to your basket.

“Hmm,” Nancy says with raised eyebrows, and nodding her head, a silent confirmation of approval. Always looking up to Nancy, almost as if she was your real life sister, you admired her. She was always put together, whether you were shopping during the week or at home, she was stylish in a way that said, I will run the world, and have dinner on the table at 6. Her white huarache sandals matched her high waisted pink pastel shorts and white button sleeveless blouse. Effortlessly stunning.

Moving along the aisles you and Nancy both finger through the clothing racks. Pulling out neon prints and a pair Madonna—esque white lace gloves, they probably belonged to that muppet singing idiot, Tammy Thompson. Chuckling at how fashion trends in high school were borderline ridiculous. a denim vest in your size with safety pins on each hem gave you an idea for your costume. Finding everything you needed you were ecstatic to put it all together.

The carpet squashed beneath your feet the further you got into the store. The back room held vhs’s, records, tapes, and books. The records were in a milk carton next to a shelf of adult themed books. The fading sharpie written sign reading “Adult fiction for Women 25 cents” posted bold along the top of the shelf. Nancy discreetly placed, “Thursday and the Lady” by Patricia Matthews into her basket, covering it with matching salt and pepper shakers, a crimson tinge to her rouged cheeks.

Diving into the records you flip them towards you as you lazily scan through them. Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours, Thriller by Michael Jackson, Abbey Road by the Beatles, Kind of Blue by Miles Davis, stuck to the back of it was a small single, Ode to Billie Joe by Bobbie Gentry. It had been years since you heard it, tucking it into your basket, Nancy clears her throat nervously, the blush evident in her cheeks, “I’m ready if you are.”

The Saturday of Halloween the salon was closed, giving you Robin and Steve plenty of time to decorate for the party tonight. Eddie was working but was scheduled to get off around 5, just in time to come home and get his secret costume on.

Orange pumpkin printed garbage bags filled with autumn foliage lined the streets of Cherry Lane. Toilet paper streamers were in Mr. Derry’s tree, a prank the seniors of Hawkins High did to him every year, including egging his front door. Vinyl witches hung from doorknobs. Plastic ghosts holding jack-o-lanterns littered lawns. Fake strings of cotton resembling cobwebs with bendy plastic spider thrown around like glitter, lay atop shrubs. Orange lights were wrapped around the trees in your front yard, flimsy ghosts made of white sheets were hung from the branches. It was a child’s Halloween paradise.

“Higher, no lower, well now you’re just doing it wrong.” Steve was in charge of Robin who was in charge of decorations. The beer pong tournament would be in the basement, every strand of Christmas lights you could find were lighting the ceiling, table set up and cups in place. The tournament bracket started with Mike and El playing against Jeff and his girlfriend Ash. The kegs would be delivered later. Buckets ready for ice sitting on the deck. Robin and Steve were still arguing over who had the better costume last year. Twisting black and orange streamers together and hanging them in the doorway to the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you’re finishing up the Jell-O shots, small clear dishes full of cherry red jello made with everclear. A bitter threat to anyone brave enough to eat them. The spinach and artichoke dip is prepped in the fridge, along with 10 packages of crescent rolls, 5 packages of hotdogs, the fruit cut and ready to be put into Steve’s horrendous Jungle Juice that you would actively be avoiding. Nancy and Jonathan were bringing pinwheels and rotel dip. Dustin and Susie are in charge of bringing candy. It’s going to be a blast.

“Be right back,” Robin and Steve call out as they leave to go get their costumes. Putting the finishing touches on your costume your hand shakes with nervousness while swiping mascara on your lashes, the pre party jitters wracking your nerves. The ring of the doorbell startles you. The obnoxious ringing should be a dead giveaway but you don’t recognize it until the door is wide open and you’re face to face with Jesus Christ himself and three nuns. Or as you knew them, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Big D.

You aren’t sure whose mouth is hanging open more. Yours or Eddie’s. Eddie is wearing a long sleeved cream colored gown, complete with a crimson sash. His usual black leather boots on his feet and a crucifix in his hand.

Eddie is the first to laugh, hands held out like he’s blessing the house before he enters it. “Aww sweetheart, you really are my #1 fan aren’t you?”

You are dressed as the most annoying on the planet, pain in the ass, voted most perverted of all of Hawkins: Eddie. When shopping with Nancy you found the vest, adding a few hand sewn patches and the best replica of Eddie’s DIO patch on the back, even shoving a pack of reds into the pocket, it looked pretty good. A twin of the aforementioned jackass. Borrowing Nancy’s cheap leather jacket when she went as Sandy from Grease last year, and putting holes into a pair of jeans and washing them as many times as you could to fray the edges, it was perfect. Complete with a horrible curly wig that you thought was a life dog upon seeing it.

“I was going for scary and scary annoying,” you shrug, “think I nailed it.”

“As hilarious and surprisingly accurate your costume is, the real winner for the party is going to be us” He gestured to him and the nuns. “figured I’d go as something that everyone says I need more of and you recognize the boys right? They’re dressed as your friends from work.”

The kegs finally show up and Eddie blesses the delivery man before he leaves. Fully throwing himself into character. Dustin and Susie are the first to arrive, dressed as Mrs. Doubtfire and Sally Ride, the first woman astronaut to go into space.

Dustin laughs so hard he cries at your costume. “Oh my God please you have to say, ‘forced conformity, it’s what’s killing the kids!’ Please Tooty Holy shit!”

Mimicking Eddie perfectly you saunter away and scream about society and how good Metallica is.

“Oh haha, so funny Tooty,” Eddie pouts, holding a beer funnel in his hands, “come on Henderson let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.”

The backyard is sprayed with foamy beer as Dustin very much can not put his money where his mouth is. Gareth’s up next, chugging like a champion and doing a lap around the backyard like he won a trophy. Eddie and Jeff shotgun beer, Eddie winning by a mile. Laughing and putting his hands in a praying gesture to bless Jeff for his shortcomings.

The rest of the party goers show up, Nancy is dressed like Annie Oakley wielding a fake shotgun and a straw cowboy hat and a long brown dress with fringe hanging from the shoulders. Jonathan and his long haired friend Argyle arrive behind Nancy dressed as Sonny & Cher. Argyle had given up the fast moving life in California once a Surfer Boys pizza arrived in Hawkins. He delivered to the house so much during the nights that Corroded Coffin was practicing that he had your order prepped and ready to go by the time you had called it in. He’d show up so blitzed out of his mind that he’d forget he was at work, sharing his different strains of weed with all the Corroded Coffin boys.

Robin and Steve are in the kitchen, ladling jungle juice into empty cups. The duo dressed as Thelma and Louise, Robin wearing a black muscle shirt and sunglasses, and Steve wore a white tank top with a neckerchief. Both talking in horrible southern accents.

Eddie is standing next to Argyle in the living room both holding almost empty cups of the forbidden jungle juice, deep in conversation about something called Purple Palm Tree Delight, but knowing them, it had nothing to do with a lavender paradise. You reach around Eddie to grab a pinwheel, taking a bite when Argyle, clearly stoned, goes wide eyed leaning into Eddie his eyes still transfixed on you he whisper yells.

“Yo, I swear to God, I just saw two of you.”

“Argyle it’s me, Tooty.” You explain standing next in front of them trying not to laugh. “This is the real Eddie, I’m just dressed like him for Halloween.”

Argyle leans forward and whispers into your ear, “Yeah okay man that’s what the aliens would say before they clone us and take over.”

He leans back and takes two big steps backwards, eyes wide in a horrified daze, before disappearing down into the basement.

“Don’t think I’ve ever said this before, but that guy smokes way too much.” Eddie chuckles, downing the rest of his jungle juice and eating the fruit at the bottom of the cup.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you warn him watching with your own gut twisting as the sweet juices of strawberry slither down his chin and down the slope of his neck.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, smacking his lips, “I’m twenty six years old, I can handle my liquor.”

“Okay,” you reply, “just so you know, the fruit soaks up all the alcohol and Steve presoaks it all in everclear the night before. Last time he ate all the fruit he spent an hour in the bathroom crying about his love life or lack thereof. And besides, we have to play in the pong tournament in a half hour.”

“We?” Eddie asks, lips turned up and a slight blush to his cheeks, “I didn’t sign up for beer pong.” His dark eyes pour into yours.

Heat creeps up your neck as you reach for a Jell-O shot cracking the lid off and circling the dish with your finger before sucking it into your mouth.

“I signed you up,” you say, reaching for another Jell-O shot, “everyone had a partner but Argyle and Will, so I paired you with Argyle, and I’m with Will,” you slide your finger around the Jell-O dish and suck the cherry gelatin into your mouth, savoring the bitter bite to your tongue before you crush it between your teeth.

“You better bring your A game Munson,” you say, taking a step into him and poking him in the chest, “because I don’t lose.”

Eddie isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol that’s making him feel this way or you but suddenly he can’t stop blushing, laying the charm on thicker than peanut butter, “oh really?” he asks intrigued, “Well babe, I don’t think you know this but I’m the Forest Hills Trailer Park Pong Champion for eight summers in a row, so technically,” he’s leaning forward now, whispering low to get his point across. Your breath hitches in your throat, you can feel the tickle of his lips against your ear, his hair is brushing against your face, the faint smell of motor oil stuck in his curls, “I never lose either.”

He pulls back and your eyes lock. The heat flooding your cheeks burn, the ache in your stomach travels south and pulses with want. You can’t deny it to yourself, even dressed as Jesus Christ, Eddie is the best looking guy you’ve laid eyes on, and you were melting at the way his dark eyes gazed into yours, a smirk placed on his lips as he brushes his tongue over his bottom lip to catch the remnants of the horrific fruit juice. His eyes never leave yours as he takes the Jell-O shot dish you’re holding and sets it behind him on the table. The tension could be cut with a knife, thick and heavily hanging in the space between you both. Eddie opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by El screaming for Mike to get to the backyard instead of puking in the kitchen sink. Her Alice in Wonderland wig askew on her head and holding Mike’s mad hatter hat between her hands.

Running to open the sliding door you get it open just in time for Mike to projectile vomit off the deck.

“Christ, what did he eat?” Eddie asks from behind you, “damn Mike you’re such a pussy!”

“His dumbass didn’t eat all day and when he got here he decided that Jell-O and fruit would be a good option.” El says, rubbing his back as he pukes again and again, “I don’t feel bad for you Mike!”

Wiping his mouth on his forest green jacket sleeve, he murmurs, “Babe, I’m fine, seriously, a few pieces of bread and I’ll be in tip top sh—“ puke splatters wetly against the grass again.

You grab El’s hand and squeeze, “let me know if you need anything, okay?” She nods and smiles sweetly.

“C’mon,” Eddie says behind you, “let’s go so I can kick your ass in beer pong.”

You turn your head, half facing him, “game on, Munson.”

The sharpie bracket on poster board continued moving forward thanks to Steve’s basketball knowledge. Jeff and Ash beat Mike and El, Nancy and Jonathan beat out Gareth and Big D in a very close came both opponents having one cup left. Steve and Robin were beat out in the first round by Dustin and Susie, something King Steve would never be living down. Nex on the bracket to play would be you and Will playing Argyle and Eddie. Honestly it should be a piece of cake, a walk in the park. Will wasn’t the most athletic but last year him and Jonathan got second place against you and Nancy so the odds were pretty high. One thing you were absolutely certain of was that you would not be losing to Jesus and Cher tonight.

The basement is packed with everyone besides the ill Mike and faithful El. Argyle and a pink lensed Will are in the corner smoking a fat blunt the sequin jacket he’s wearing sparkles through the haze of smoke and the catches the lights. You haven’t seen him since Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding. But he’s letting his hair grow out, finally letting the bowl cut Joyce insisted on him having all throughout middle school and high school go. Steve has Dustin in a headlock for teasing him about winning against Mr. Hawkins High basketball star of 1985.

“Ya know for once, I was actually good, like really good, Steve overthrew the last cup and it was game over once Susie got the ball. She’s strangely amazing at beer pong. Probably found the mathematical equation from the distance of the table and her elbow to the solo cups.” Robin rambles on, only stopping to get her breath. “How are you? I haven’t seen you all night. Killer costume by the way, if you can’t beat ‘em be ‘em right?”

Robin and her absolute no filter mouth, always make you laugh, linking your arm with hers, “I really like your and Steve’s take on best friends driving off a cliff together to evade police.”

“JESUS CHRIST!” someone yells from upstairs.

Not missing a beat, Eddie can be heard returning the exclamation. “You rang?”

Rolling your eyes and looking his way, you laugh when you see him, holding up his arms in praise.

Robin’s voice bringing you back to the conversation, “Epic right? Steve thought we could be conjoined twins but then decided against it when he figured there was a small chance he could possibly get lucky tonight when that black haired girl at his job kept hinting that she wanted a date with him.”

“What!” you shout, “He never told me this!”

Robin rolls her eyes and takes another drink from her too foamy beer, “he’s nervous, I think he really likes her but doesn’t wanna fuck it up like he does everything else.”

Steve deserved to be happy and to have someone love him. He was always making sure everyone else was okay, you smile at the thought of him with a girlfriend.

“So,” Robin presses, wiggling her eyebrows, “Eddie looks good tonight,” a wicked smile dances wildly on her lips.

“I’m not at all buzzed enough to have this conversation,” you say, taking a peak at Eddie through your eyelashes, he was laughing loudly at something Steve had said, head thrown back, exposing his neck.

Will joins your side, reeking of weed and heavy musk cologne. “Tooty!” He squeals, wrapping you into a tight hug, “the house looks so fucking good I can’t believe it, also I heard that you’re living with Eddie? I’m going to need all the details!”

“It’s so good to see you, look at your hair!” You say holding his arms. Will threads a hand through his hair and laughs a little.

“Thanks, it’s new but it’s kinda growing on me, now, spill it. Tell me everything.”

“Next game!” Nancy announces, advancing her and Jonathan to the next bracket. “Argyle/ Eddie vs Tooty/ Will.”

Will grabs your hand and drags you to the beer pong table, “after?” He asks and you nod your head.

Eddie and Argyle are standing on one end, you and Will on the other. The cups are arranged into a triangle and filled with the warming pitcher of keg beer.

“You ready to go down groveling, sweetheart?” Eddie sings from across the table, eyes squinting when he leans on the edge of the table smiling at you.

Your stomach flutters, taking a long swig of Will’s jungle juice, staring Eddie down as you gulp the vile liquor and fruit punch combo down, “You ready to get your ass kicked, Munson?”

“Woo! That’s balls back ba-by,” you sneer, hooting and hollering as Eddie begrudgingly tosses the balls back your way. It was almost as if Argyle and Will weren’t even there, this game was between you and Eddie. You were definitely buzzed, between the warm beer and the Jell-O shots you had eaten you were feeling good.

When you miss the first cup, Eddie makes devil horns at you and howls at the moon like an idiot. You sink the next cup, earning a high-five from Will, and a sly grin from Eddie as he removes the cup and chugs the warm beer. He’s secretly excited that you’re so happy, letting loose, in your element, surrounded by your loving friends. You glowing with a sense of freedom. In that moment when your eyes caught his, he knew he was in trouble, you were wrapped around his finger and he didn’t think of hardly anything else, but you, your beautiful smile, the way your hair caught each light you were under. He was in deep, and for right now, he was perfectly and utterly okay with that.

It’s Argyle’s turn and he surprisingly sinks both cups, being awarded with balls back, as you and Will each take a cup and drink the suds down. Trying to distract him, you whip off your Eddie- esque wig and toss it towards Eddie, shaking your hair out like a wild woman.

Unphased by your antics he does it again and you groan. Four in a row? This guy was half asleep the entire game and all of a sudden he’s an athlete? They only have 1 cup left. Tension rises and the room goes to silence at Steve’s request. Argyle sinks it. Eddie erupts into cheers grabbing Argyle by the shoulders and jumping up and down.

“Redemption attempt!” Steve shouts, giving Will the ball. Will takes it with nervous fingers, blowing the ball to dry it slightly as you chug the last cup. He only has two cups to make. Will tosses the ball and the room goes silent, it feels like it’s in slow motion, or maybe that’s the alcohol. The ball soars through the air, bouncing against the rim of the cup lapping up the foamy beer, before it falls off and teeters off onto the table.

Argyle raises both hands in the air, “VICTORY!” the room erupts with cheers. Will apologizes profusely but you hug him tight, telling him you were happy he was your partner.

“Next game is Jonathan/Nancy vs Jeff/ Ash starting in 20 mins!” Steve hollers. The basement clears out as people go upstairs to use the bathroom and refill their drinks.

You expect Eddie to be gloating, cocky beyond belief. But he’s the opposite, coming up to you slowly, head bowed, upper teeth practically biting his lower lip in half.

“Good game sweetheart,” he says barely above a whisper, “not gonna lie, I really thought you guys were gonna win.”

Holding your chin high, face only inches from his, the brown pools of colored whiskey stare into your eyes. Placing a hand on his chest, the alcohol gives you enough of a push to cross the line. The thin gauzy material of the gown he’s wearing is sticky with sweat and warm from the heat radiating from his body. “Told myself I wouldn’t lose to Cher and Jesus tonight.”

Eddie let’s out a throaty laugh, “can’t believe he pulled that off, he didn’t make a cup all game.”

“Guess you get to continue wearing that tarnished crown, speaking of wardrobe… where the hell did you get this outfit?”

“You know that church across from the police station?”

“The one with the Jesus statue inside?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows and gives you a knowing glance, waiting for you to catch on.

“No way! Eddie! You broke into a church and stole an outfit off of a statue?”

“Amen,” Eddie says roaring with laughter, “ahh c’mon you can’t tell me it wasn’t a genius idea.”

Rolling your eyes, “I wouldn’t exactly call it genius, but funny? Yes.”

He laughs again, “not everyday I get a compliment from myself,” he says eyeing your costume, “you do make a pretty cute Eddie Munson if I say so myself.” he wasn’t even thinking anything of it, just blurted it right out.

Flirting came easy to him almost as a second nature, he was never nervous around women, usually finding the game of sex not just something he was good at but conquered with ease. But this, here, with you? Was a slippery slope. A different game for him entirely. He was a pawn amongst you and you were the queen, striking down whoever came near, holding all the power.

Your cheeks heat from his compliment, blood rushing through your body and warming your skin, he holds your hand to your chest, stroking your fingers with his thumbs.

A thousand bolts of lightening ignite you, he smells like smoke, ashy and burning, the cheap keg beer on his breath as he smiles softly at you.

“Tooty!” Steve calls from the top step, clinging onto it for dear life, “are you down there?!”

You’re the first one to break away, pulling your hand from his grasp, threading them together at the last minute, finger tips clinging to each other like velcro. The flames between you both extinguished fast, no oxygen left in the room to keep it going.

Getting to the bottom step and turning, you give him one last glance and a small smile, before trotting up the stairs to Steve.

Eddie opens the patio door to find Gareth and Big D blowing smoke into the sky and talking about the best DIO song.

“Shit man, where have you been? Didn’t your game end like 15 minutes ago?”

Eddie thinks of a lie quick, “Taking a piss why you wanna watch?”

“That’s weird,” Big D questions, “cause Gareth just came out of the bathroom unless there’s a magic bathroom you haven’t told us about.”

“What are you guardian of the toilet?” Eddie says slotting a cigarette between his teeth and flicking his zippo open.

“I mean he’s got a point,” Gareth interjects, “where have you been tonight, turning water into wine? Or are you healing the blind?”

“Cool it, Whoopi,” Eddie bites, “the fuck does it matter where I was or wasn’t?”

“You’ve changed dude. Used to be a ladies man, different chick every night. Smoking and drinking all night watching the sunrise. Fuck man you were hell on wheels. Then all of a sudden you move in here and you’re acting like the Pope, fixing up her car off the clock, bringing her to and from work, you’re like her fucking babysitter.” Gareth exclaims.

“Fuck off man, she’s Eyeball’s sister, and I’m just looking out for her.” Eddie grits through his teeth.

“Or,” Big D suggests, “you like her, I mean you still haven’t even told us about the twins— and you stare at her like she’s about to combust at any moment.”

“Yeah and what do you two know about anything?” Eddie spits.

“Clearly not shit, but you’re all fucking riled up about a girl you don’t like.” Gareth flicks his cigarette and goes inside, Big D following.

The door opens again, “listen man, I’m not in the mood for your stupid fucking advice.” Eddie groans, turning to see Steve standing at the door, an empty pitcher in his hand. “Shit, sorry, thought you were Gareth.”

“Nope kept my habit at home,” Steve says with a chuckle, setting the pitcher on the edge of the deck, “nice party, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “ya know when Tooty first told me that her and Nancy threw a party every year I didn’t believe it, turns out I was wrong about her, seems to be a theme of mine lately.”

“She doesn’t let a lot of people in, but once you’re here, it means she trusts you, respects you.” Steve explains.

Eddie smiles softly, ashing his cigarette.

“She cares about you, ya know? She might not want to admit it— may even be scared to admit it to herself, but she likes you.”

Eddie gives him a look. Sure you were nicer to him, not threatening to kick him out anymore. You had let the band practice in the garage, even staying out there to hear them play. But that didn’t mean anything did it?

“How many times do you think she’s cut my hair?” Steve inquires, leaning next to the railing on the deck beside Eddie.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says honestly, “a dozen?”

Steve chuckles, “Never, not once, never even offered. You think she made elaborate meals for Nancy when they lived together? Wrong— she barely touched the stove. You move in and she’s changed, for the better. It’s like she’s coming back to life, and the only common thing in that equation, is you.”

Eddie mulls this over, could Steve be right? “I don’t know man.”

“I may not be Mr. Relationship but I do know Tooty, and you’ve softened her edges. Tamed that frightful girl we all love and adore. She’s got walls up, keeping people out, but not around you, not anymore.”

Eddie hangs his head, his heart bursting with sad euphoric bliss. He couldn’t go about this like any other conquest. And with you it would never be how it was with the other women. Faceless broads in mini skirts, praising him, doing whatever he wanted them to. He never saw you in that way. Holding you on a pedestal about the rest. He hadn’t been in a relationship in years. One too many times of being cheated on was enough for him. But you were hurt too, more so than he was. He was still licking his wounds with anything willing and able. You? You were a shell of yourself. He couldn’t act on this like he would with anyone else. He cared about you too damn much to make you feel like you couldn’t trust him again.

“And I know you care about her. Everytime I look at you you’re staring at her like a sad little puppy.”

Eddie looks up then, looking at Steve like he held all the answers to life’s questions. He turns and leans against the deck, elbows on the railing just how Steve was facing the house.

“Yeah, you’re right, I do care about her, more than anything. So what do I do?” He asks Steve.

Steve shrugs, letting out a loud sigh, “keep doing what you’re doing, she knows you care about her, just don’t disappear on her.”

Eddie turns his head from Steve and catches sight of you through the patio doors. He can see you taking a Jell-O shot with El, Robin and Nancy. A sleeping lump of clothes on the kitchen table with black hair must be Mike. You light up the room as you laugh when Robin makes a repulsive expression after taking her Jell-O shot. He can’t hear your full laugh, it’s faint through the glass. But, he doesn’t need to hear it to know the sound—having heard it more and more the last few weeks, the way you throw your head back when something is really funny, sometimes covering your mouth. He’s certain he’s never seen anyone more angelic in his life. Like you have sucked all the air from the room, even dressed in a sheer mockery of him, you’re radiating a glow that makes his heart swell. He has never cared about anyone the way that he does for you.

Seeing him through the doors standing next to Steve, he has a smirk on his face. A sudden rush of shyness creeps up your neck and you turn away from him, but you reciprocate his actions, smiling at him. A small gesture that melts him on the spot.

Eyes trained on you but still talking to Steve, Eddie beams, “I’m not going anywhere.”

A/n: see you in volume vii

Hope you all enjoyed this. There were some little hidden Easter eggs in this chapter, go to my askbox if you found them 💕

readmore eat my ass or this line you decide, whore.

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#eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie x y/n #stranger things season 4 #stranger things #eddie munson smut

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eddiessluttywaist · 2 years ago

Text

desiderium

an eddie munson series

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie’s odd, forgotten childhood friend seeks him out when he needs her more than he realizes.

pairing: bsf!mechanic!bartender!eddie x eccentric!bsf!fem!reader

word count: 6,118 words

content/warnings: eventual smut so MDNI, angst, fluff, swearing, loneliness, family issues, feeling unwanted, mentions of bullying, low self esteem, anxiety, mentions of inappropriate and abusive relationships from reader’s past (nothing detailed), mentions of relationships with an inappropriate age gap (adult men dating reader when she was still a teenager—nothing detailed), brief mentions of imprisonment, crying. i think that’s it!

a/n: sorry to say not all updates will be this quick 🫠 this is only ready now because i had already written a good chunk of it when i wrote part one. creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

“How’d it go?” Martha pulled herself up to get a better look at you, hands on the inner edge of the service desk.

She probably thought with how much time had passed, that things went well. That you spent time with Eddie while he worked, talking when he wasn’t too focused on something else. Maybe you went out to eat and caught up—surely that was why you were returning now when you had left to see him around late morning. It definitely wasn’t because you drove off after he snapped at you and didn’t even give you a chance to defend yourself. A prank? Why would it have been a prank?

It certainly hadn’t been so long because you couldn’t stand the idea of facing her with tears in your eyes and a waver to your voice. Surely, you hadn’t been crying and chastising yourself in your car in some random parking lot until you felt you could be seen in the outside world again. There was no way you were showing up now because when you were on your way to get more greasy food, your car sputtered to a halt because you’re an idiot who had the engine running the entire time you were in that parking lot.

She imagined your afternoon spent with Eddie—not a few strangers who helped you push your car to the nearest gas station (which was thankfully rather close, your only bout of luck thus far). You didn’t need to stop to cry a second time in one day (this time with the car off) just so you could get it out of your system before going into the market on your way back. And by that point it wasn’t even about Eddie. Okay, maybe a little bit, but mostly just because you were so overwhelmed by how everything was going wrong.

She was sure during all that time that you had successfully reunited with your long lost friend. But then as you trudged over, you pointed to your temple.

“Always better up here, right?” you murmured, voice tired and your eyes still somewhat raw.

“Oh, dear…,” she sighed, reaching to pat your hands that were now settled on the ledge where guests were greeted.

“I don’t… I don’t really want to talk about it…,” you admit, and she gives your hands a small squeeze. She can’t help but notice the scent of salt and grease—you definitely had a bag with cheeseburgers and fries waiting for you, probably settled on the floor beside your feet so you weren’t leaving oily stains on her countertop.

Maybe it was ridiculous to be so upset. Stupid emotions. Stupid, stupid emotions that you should be able to control by now. Maybe it was because you let yourself get caught up in your hopes more than you thought and now you were left not just disappointed, but humiliated too.

“Oh, I got you this,” you continue after what you hoped was a forgettable dab to the corner of your eye with the knuckle of your right thumb. You pull your purse to the side to grab a small brown paper bag—one that didn’t have stains collecting on the bottom. “They didn’t have tuna, but I know you said you like turkey better than ham so…”

“You don’t need to keep bringing me food,” she reassured you with a sweet smile, as if it didn’t make her day whenever you did. She wasn’t used to such a kind young girl being around—someone who thought to get her something to eat or listened to her stories with all the respect and attentiveness that makes a person feel like they matter.

“It’s rude to show up with food for myself and not for you,” you argued gently while offering her a weak, closed mouth smile.

“You still don’t have to, though… Why don’t you go lie down, hm?” Martha patted at your hands again before sinking back into her seat. “Rest up a little. I’m here if you need to talk.”

As you laid alone in your bed that night with your hair still partially damp after a shower—memories of your childhood flooded in. You hated feeling so utterly lonely and rejected. It only made you think of growing up which always made you feel worse. It reminded you of being all by yourself at ages where you really should’ve had your parents around, or at least a babysitter.

They hadn’t been ready to have a kid, not really. The couple had been all wrapped up in the romanticism and fantasy of starting a family, and didn’t listen when other parents shared stories to hint at the fact that it’s not that easy. You wondered if that’s when they started to hate you. When you cried all night when they wanted to sleep or go bar hopping with friends. When you’d spit up on them; or suddenly have a shift in your sleeping habits just when they thought they had a grasp on them; or when you constantly grew out of those clothes they swore they just bought. You were a waste of time and money. They looked forward to you growing up more than anything so they could leave you in the house and eventually kick you out of it.

Once you were old enough to make a sandwich or pour a bowl of cereal on your own, they abandoned you as much as possible. Sure, you could handle a peanut butter and jelly or a bowl of Cheerios—that didn’t mean you felt secure in the house all by yourself. At first you would leave all the lights on to give yourself some semblance of security, but then they yelled at you over an electric bill you didn’t understand. Then you’d have “accidents” just so they’d come home—whether that was slicing your finger while trying to cut your sandwich or because you fell or something else you thought of. You found comfort in them being around even if they were pissed at you for being the reason they had to come back early. Then they stopped coming home when you called them crying. Instead, they reassured you that you were old enough to clean your finger and put on a bandaid; or that the fall wasn’t that bad if you could get up and go to the phone in the kitchen. So that ended up being a lost cause.

The habit that stuck the longest was from that little magic 8 ball you got one birthday from an aunt you never saw. It actually listened to you and gave you the reassurance and guidance you needed. When you were scared of the dark, you’d whisper “Do monsters exist?” and it told you no. When you thought you heard someone in the house just because it was settling, you’d ask it if someone broke in and it helped ease your racing heart with the same reply. Besides Eddie, it was your only companion. That stupid hunk of plastic.

Hot tears that you assumed were all spent earlier today stream down from your eyes and into your hair as your train of thought turns to one memory in particular. That night you shook the child’s toy with all your might as you asked it if your parents loved you. This time the familiar phrase scratched into that floating blue triangle wasn’t so comforting.

It was a flash. A blurry replay from the back of your mind, but it still hit you hard. You wipe at your wet cheeks with the feverish haste of someone who was crying in front of a stranger. No one was in the room with you, but you still hated the way it felt. You should’ve never let any of those tears fall today—that’s what made them real. That’s what cemented how miserable you really were.

“Just look up at the sky and blink if you don’t want to.” Eddie had said as he sat next to you on the pavement.

He had been teaching you how to skate and you fell off of his board, leaving your knees and palms all scraped up and bloody. You wanted to cry, but you hated crying. It made you feel like a dumb kid. Mom and dad hate dumb, crybaby kids. You should be able to control your emotions better than this by now.

“If they don’t slip out then they’re not real. They never happened, I promise.” The boy lisped around the gap in his teeth. He had lost his last baby tooth earlier that week. He was all grown up, you guessed.

“But what about when I can’t keep them in?” You whimpered, unsure if you’d be able to blink them back the way he suggested. The boy toyed with a piece of gravel between his fingers and shrugged lazily.

“I dunno. Just wipe ‘em away, I guess. I don’t have any tissues, but you can use my sleeve if you wanna.”

He pulled his long sleeve down until it was over his hand and offered his covered fist to you.

You huffed out a broken laugh at the memory and pulled your own sleeve down to continue wiping at your face. God, you missed him. He was your first best friend, and honestly your last. You had never felt that close with anyone else, and sure it was dumb because you were only kids but it still meant a lot to you. He was who you went to when you didn’t want to stay in an empty house, and even though most parents would throw a fit over a girl and a boy having sleepovers—yours couldn’t care less. At least someone else was in charge of you, even if it was Eddie’s dad who they thought was shit for reasons you didn’t understand.

He was a kind of intimidating looking character and sometimes he insisted you two stay at the local park until he came to get you when he had some friends on their way over (which you realized the implications of later), but he was a nice dad. You were around so often that he’d call you “kiddo” and ruffle your hair the way he did with Eddie’s buzzed scalp—which was more grabbing the fuzzy top of his head and nudging him around playfully than really ruffling hair. He knew you didn’t like crust on your sandwiches. He knew you liked strawberry milk more than chocolate milk, which Eddie appreciated cause it meant more chocolate Yoo-hoo for him. His dad was relatively busy and a little intense, but you liked him and you liked staying over.

Even at 24, you missed blanket forts. You missed making up stories under all the blankets and sheets as you held flashlights under your faces. You missed “camping” in the backyard. You missed wrestling. You missed watching tv until the American flag was fluttering and the national anthem played until the screen faded to black. You missed the anticipation of trying to see who was faster at turning off the tv before the screen flipped to those streaks of color and let out that god awful noise. You took turns to see who could get the closest to right when it was about to switch but before that noise could sound. You had the best score before he left.

You smiled lightly now as you settled into the bed, face still warm from all your distress of the day. Despite Eddie being part of why you had been crying in the first place, you still turned to memories of him to calm yourself down. You thought about when you were sure he’d be your first kiss—a decision you had made unfortunately a few weeks before he left. This was the kind of childish memory that made you roll your eyes, but deep down it actually made life simpler and sweeter so you still cozied up to it whenever you remembered. Reminiscing about when those kinds of things were new and exciting—without the burden of knowing all the mess that eventually comes with endearment—soothed you.

At the time, you were steadily approaching adolescence and starting to pay attention to romance novels and tv programs. It made having a boy as your best friend suddenly feel different in your stupid little prepubescent brain. The same shit he always did started to make you go shy and blush, and he’d nudge you and call you a “fuckin’ dork”. He was still in his “girls are gross” phase whereas you were already forming crushes. You developed crushes just about every day by the time you were in fifth grade, but you liked your best friend the most.

It’s funny actually—or maybe just sad—but you still had a habit of constantly forming crushes. The thought of being desired by someone thrilled you, but that love for attention put you in shitty situations sometimes. No one even liked you until you were maturing in a way that felt so much sooner and so much faster than the other girls by grade 6. Maybe that should’ve been the tell that the sudden interest in you was hollow, but it made you feel special. You kinda liked knowing boys fixated on you even if they were mimicking lewd comments they overheard their older brothers say or wrote about you in the boy’s bathroom—no matter how much you hated yourself for secretly basking in all of the attention.

It wasn’t always dumb boys in middle school, though, even if it would’ve been nice for things to be that basic forever. Eventually it was guys who were too old for you when you were in your late teens. The types who’d say shit like “That’s what you gotta love about high school girls. You get older, and they stay the same age,” and made you feel like you were grown and capable—when it benefited them, of course.

The nights you regretted getting wrapped up in the excitement of an older man or someone you had never met before at a bar or someone who had a bad habit of punching holes into walls awfully close to where your head was against the plaster—you thought about Eddie. You wondered if he grew up to be as awful as all the other boys you knew. If he turned into a creep or if he was the same, sweet boy who—sure, would hold you down and pretend he was gonna spit on you—but had also been taught to hold the door open for you or gave you a flower on your birthday or held your hands when he taught you to skate, promising that he wouldn’t let you fall. Well, except for when you insisted you were ready to do it by yourself. Then he said “Okay, but if you fall on your ass then you don’t get to yell at me.” And you didn’t yell, but he gave you his sleeve if you needed to cry.

There were parents who disappointed. Extended family you rarely heard from. Friends that came and went. Boyfriends who broke your heart, but best friends were forever in your mind. Wasn’t that why you made those bracelets and spit into your palms before shaking on the decision that you were always going to be there for each other?

Eddie’s shift dragged along after that strange young woman showed up. He knew his reputation. He knew that he was the butt of most jokes. He knew he was the town freak even when he had finally graduated and was trying to be a responsible adult. There would always be a few who remained unrelenting in their efforts to make him miserable, or at least that’s how it felt. And it wasn’t like you were someone he recognized as guilty for his constant harassment, but it wouldn’t be the first time some local asshole’s cousin or friend came to visit and was put up to the task of making him feel liked just for it to be some cruel punchline. He was tired of the jokes and the pranks and the muttered comments as people watched his every move. He needed to stay one step ahead or he’d be dealing with it forever. Why else would you pull him away from the back just to talk to him? He didn’t even know you. The frustration burned at him through most of his shift, which he took out on all the exertion he had to put into fixing that crappy Ford Ranch Wagon. He prayed that he would finally sleep tonight, the thought of a hot shower and an old bed waiting for him steadily bringing his mood back up.

Eddie sighed happily when it was time to clock out, holding the door open for Linda on her way out so she could lock up for the two of them.

“Night, Lin,” he sighed with a small smile that spoke of apologies for his constant grouchiness, and parted from her to head to his van.

“Oh, wait!” she suddenly called out, making him raise his brows and twist on his heels. He watched her make her way over to him all while holding something out for him.

“This was left for you by that odd girl who came by.”

At the mention of you, he scowled a little—certain it was a continuation of some joke, until he felt the plastic beads strung together on some string.

“Uh… thanks.”

“She looked real upset. All teary-eyed. Did you break up with that poor girl?”

“What?” Eddie’s head snapped up to eye her incredulously. “I—No! I don’t even recognize her. I don’t think we’ve even met before.”

Lin eyed him suspiciously before letting out a small hum. Men, she thought, although Eddie had always been a good kid, in her opinion—no matter what others said.

“Really, I swear.”

“Okay, hon… well go get some rest, alright?”

He hoped the same for her, and walked back to his car once she was safe in her vehicle and driving off. Eddie clambered into his old van and carelessly punched the button that turned on the light above his head. The bracelet in his hand was small and crowded with an odd assortment of different shaped and colored beads except for seven of the nearly identical beads that were lined up in the center. At both ends there were knots in the thick string to keep the beads from slipping off and had tails left on either side so you could tie and untie the bracelet whenever. Not that you two ever did untie them. The only time you took yours off was when you went swimming at the community pool and were scared you were going to lose it—and that didn’t count. You both promised it didn’t count cause you were just avoiding disaster.

He held it up to get a better look and read the lettering on those seven beads.

C-R-I-T-T-E-R

Critter. Eddie’s brows furrowed together and confusion was only welcome for half a second—maybe even less—before a pang of familiarity punched him in the gut.

“You’re doing it wrong!”

“How can I be doing it wrong? Will you screw off?”

“Eddie, you have to make a pretty pattern of colors, not just random mish-mash. See?”

You held up the bracelet you were working on for him with a pattern of his favorite colors: red bead, blue bead, black bead, red bead… and so on. His was just whatever bead he grabbed that he thought looked cool since you had so many to choose from. There were bulky wooden ones; those tiny little rainbow ones your mom let you have when her long necklace full of them broke (she didn’t want to clean them up so she promised you could keep them if you did); sunburst ones; chunky square ones that had letters and numbers on them; tribeads that were half in and half out of that thin plastic Beadery bag in your collection; and those dumb pop beads that he couldn’t even put on the string but of course kept picking up by accident.

“Screw off,” He insisted a second time and you rolled your eyes before continuing with your craft.

For all the shit you gave him, you loved the bracelet. Once it was done and he gave it to you, it was officially the most beautiful piece of jewelry you owned. You had insisted you two trade the bracelets like you heard the other girls in your grade talk about. You had to make them for each other rather than make your own and you had to tie them around the other’s wrist while they closed their eyes and made a wish.

Some of the boys in school gave him shit for it, calling him names for wearing jewelry he got from the girl in the grade below them. He didn’t care though. After all, Eddie wasn’t one to change himself for the sake of fitting in and he loved his bracelet.

He laughed a bit in disbelief now as he looked down at the bracelet he made for you back in 1975. You remembered him? God, he hadn’t thought of you in forever. Not to be an ass, but because it got too painful.

Among all of the stress that night his dad was arrested, he had been so overwhelmed that he completely shutdown. He was quiet and his expression was numb as he answered questions and packed his things. He was apprehensive and apathetic when he was brought to his uncle he rarely saw, but he didn’t cry. And he never told anyone this, but he never cried until a random thought of not seeing his best friend anymore suddenly set him off while he was trying to sleep. That was what made him realize the reality of everything that occurred. He didn’t have his home anymore. He didn’t have his dad. He didn’t have anything other than a new guardian and a trailer with one bedroom that Wayne had to pull all of his stuff out of so Eddie could have it. And he didn’t have you.

He brought you up a few times, but eventually stopped when he realized how stressed Wayne got over the mention of a trip into Ohio. A trip that meant dipping into his funds—that were already starting to run spectacularly low now that he was responsible for an 11 year old—for the gas money and probably a fee at the state line. Likely a motel room too, if your parents didn’t let them stay at the house.

How did he not recognize you? The more he thought over your interaction, the more he recognized your eyes and the shape of your nose and the curve of your lips even if they were fuller now. Little things here and there that even as an adult made it easier to see the bits and pieces of how you used to look. Here he’s been sulking in all his misery and loneliness, and he had completely scared off the chance to have an old best friend back. And Linda said you had tears in your eyes?

Eddie groaned as he let his head sink forward and rest on the center of his steering wheel. He didn’t even care about the horn that permeated the still night around him as self deprecating thoughts swirled before finally letting up on the button. This groan wasn’t a useless cry to the sky over the state of his life like the others so far, but rather a display of anger at himself for being such a dick. And he couldn’t even fix it. He didn’t have your phone number. He didn’t know where you were staying, if you were even staying. Did you move here? Were you just driving through the state and thought to drop by? Maybe have lunch and catch up before leaving again?

Why did he always have to fuck everything up?

You spent a good portion of your weekend sulking until Martha dragged you out on Sunday. You had been eating all the food you brought with you alone in your room and only went outside when you craved your bad habit enough.

“This has to be a violation of a paying customer’s privacy…,” you groaned as you rolled over and shoved your face into your pillow to avoid the light coming in full force from the windows. Martha had unlocked your door and came in to throw the curtains open to pull you out of your post-humiliation funk.

“It’s a beautiful morning. We’re going on a walk to take it all in and I’m taking you to that diner I keep telling you about.”

“I could’ve been naked. What if you came charging in here and I was laying here naked? Neither of us would’ve recovered. And our friendship would be ruined.”

“Oh don’t be so childish,” Martha huffed, hands on her hips. For an older woman she sure could be spritely when she wanted to be—whipping around your room the way she had been and insisting on a journey into the outdoors.

“It’s too cold.”

“Not when we start moving. It’s not even Autumn yet.”

“Technically the first day of Fall has already passed,” you corrected, still face planting your pillow and raising your hand up as you made your point before dropping it back down.

“Well the cold hasn’t reached us yet. I think you’ll survive. Come on, dear, it’ll be good for you. Good for both of us. I’m always cooped up at that desk.”

You sigh, but stay in your bed with all your plans set on sulking until the end of time. Until you were a pile of dust she was vacuuming up so she could get the room ready for someone else. Maybe you were being a tad dramatic, but you still felt that way.

“You want me to wake you up the way Howard did with our daughter? When she wouldn’t get up for high school?”

Now groaning at the thought of that cup of ice cold water trick she told you about, you huff and you finally force yourself up.

Despite your initial refusal to get out of bed, you were glad that Martha made you. It really was a wonderful morning and the smell of fresh air and the sound of the occasional leaf crunching under your feet refreshed you. Even with how deeply you despised being lonely, you had a habit of isolating yourself when you were upset and it could be quite destructive at times when you didn’t have someone to pull you back out of it. She didn’t even force you to discuss Thursday, just kept up casual chit chat like always.

And even if that walk hadn’t been enough to begin lifting your spirits, the food at the diner certainly would’ve done the trick all on its own. It wasn’t the prettiest joint around, but the breakfast was phenomenal. You wondered if she picked up on the fact that food and eating with others was a part of your love language. Being introduced to such an amazing local restaurant that clearly meant a lot to her soothed your aches of rejection and mortification.

Both aspects of the morning Martha forced you to take part in actually helped to improve your mood. What happened still stung but it was less “end of the world” and a little more “bump in the road.” With the fresh air, breakfast food and Martha’s pep talks—you were thinking of your next couple of steps forward rather than all the doom and gloom. You’d attempt to quit all the fast food that only left you more sluggish, and start finding other things to pay attention to. You weren’t giving up on Eddie, but you had to focus on your other needs again. This meant getting out of bed. Eating something other than cheeseburgers and fries, promising Martha you’d get other food Monday.

Well, maybe not Monday. You may have caved again, but you swore the next day. So on that following Tuesday night, you were at the market to pick up some things for you and Martha. There was a small fridge and a cabinet in your room that you could keep things in, and you offered to pick up anything she needed while you were out.

Peanut butter for you, cans of soup for her—oh, actually soup sounded good. With your sudden craving, you grabbed a few more cans. Milk for both of you, as well as cereal. Microwave meals for you, sardines for her—

Oh gross, sardines?

—Could you even stay friends at this revelation? You supposed you could since she let you bother her even with your fast food she couldn’t stand. But this fact wasn’t going anywhere. You were going to give her your best, most dramatic yuck when you gave her her groceries and you would have to insist that she never eats them where you can smell them.

You moved on through the list, and pushed your cart that fought you every step of the way to the bread and baked goods aisle. Why did you always get the cart with the squeaky wheel? The one that stuck every now and then and dragged against the linoleum before finally returning to a squealing roll? Bad luck, you supposed.

Once you were in the aisle, you double checked what brand she requested before letting out a sigh. Of course they were the loaves that were neatly stacked on the top shelf. Notepad paper crushed between your hand and the shelf you were using for support, you stretched up onto your tiptoes as best as you could to grab for one. You could easily grab the pinched end of one and just tug, but you didn’t want to accidentally squish any of them or make any of the others go tumbling. You’re about to step on the bottom shelf when suddenly a hand much larger than yours littered with heavy rings was grabbing it either from you like a dick or for you like a gentleman.

“Still short, huh?” You heard the rough, tired voice say from beside you.

You settled back on your feet and glanced at the man holding out the loaf of bread for you. He was in those dirty coveralls again with the sleeves rolled up, clearly from when he had taken the time to clean his hands and forearms before leaving his shift. His hair was out of its ponytail now so you could see it in all of its chaotic glory. As you accepted his kindness for Martha’s sake, you did your best to tamper your reaction to him being here. Whether it was any excitement over him possibly trying to fix things; or if it was intrigue over how his hair got so long and the fact that he had tattoos now; or if it was irritation leftover from how he treated you last Thursday. Had you still been familiar with one another, and this had been a small spat between friends, you probably would’ve just punched his arm.

“What? Come to yell at me some more?” You mutter. Okay so trying to keep a neutral stance wasn’t going very well.

You hear him exhale a quick sigh at your words and the way you refused to look at him. You had one elbow leaning against your cart now while you put all your focus on toying with the piece of paper in your hands. Folding and unfolding, smoothing out creases, lining up the edges of the paper and fixing the previous fold so everything fits better.

“No,” he replied in a defeated tone, but you still weren’t looking at him. “‘N I’m sorry about that, okay? Just wasn’t expecting it, and it’s not like you’re 9 anymore.”

“So I’m guessing you recognize me now?”

“A little, yeah,” He tried to be playful, a small smile tugging on his features until you looked up at him with that sad expression and he was deflated again. “Joke. Bad joke, I- of course I recognize you, Critter.”

You failed in your attempt to not smile at the nickname you hadn’t heard in far too long, making Eddie straighten out his posture again at the sight of your lips curving up.

“You still don’t have a poker face. That right there?” He points at your smile, while his own pulled at his lips “That’s how I won all of your best candy bars on Halloween.”

“You never really kept them from me,” You countered, head tilting back to fully look up at him now and your smile a little more sure.

“Of course not. Cause I’m a sucker and you can get whatever you want with a pout,” He laughed and you grew bashful as your cheeks flushed, ducking your head back down to try and hide it.

“Here,” Eddie sighed after a beat, digging into his pocket and pulling out a bracelet to drop in your palm.

Figuring he was returning yours to you, you were confused when you didn’t see your usual mix of beads. Your brows stayed knit together until you recognized those red, blue and black beads and the nickname in the center. Your features softened as you held out your hand for him to drop it into.

L-O-O-G-I-E

“You kept it…?” you murmured as you stared at the plastic bracelet like it’s treasure, before looking up at him again while your fingers brushed over the beads.

“Obviously,” he replied bluntly, pointing at it.

“Completely tore my place apart to find it so I could prove it, too. Not that my place is the neatest to start with, but…,” he let out a light laugh, head tilting and lazy smile tugging at one side of his mouth. He still smiled the same.

You eyed him for a moment, then returned your focus to the old jewelry. You felt oddly reserved with him after his initial reaction to your appearance at his work, and all the time you spent apart. You never had to work up the courage to speak to him before, or think about what to say or how to say it.

“10.”

“…Hm?”

“I was 10 years old. You said I wasn’t exactly 9 anymore, but it was actually a few weeks out from my birthday when you had to leave.”

“I guess that’s true, huh?” Eddie sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Why were his arms so fit? And veiny? And why do you have to tilt your head back to see his face now? Ugh, you’re starting to feel like that young girl who read her first romance novel and was developing her first crushes.

“Yeah…,” you say simply, fearing you’ll make a fool of yourself if you try to say more.

“I’m sorry that all happened around your birthday.”

He was so sincere when he said it, but it made your eyes grow wide as you looked up at his face again.

“Oh god– no. No, no, no. Don’t apologize. That’s not how I meant that at all. You-- that wasn’t your fault. And it was worse for you than it was for me, for obvious reasons.”

“Yeah, with the convict dad and all. But it’s a real shame…,” he sighs with feigned disappointment. “Y’know… that you couldn’t kiss me on your birthday.”

That evil grin sunk his dimples into his cheeks and he sucked on his teeth while he clasped his hands behind his back. Your eyes might as well have been popping out of your skull at this point, your whole face heating up.

“I— you— how— oh, you dick!” you gasp at the revelation through all of your sputtering and punch his shoulder without even thinking, and certainly not noticing the elderly woman who huffed at your unladylike behavior before scuttling away. “You read my diary!”

“Yeah, well, you really should’ve gotten the kind that came with a lock.”

“So you don’t recognize me, but you remember a journal entry you shouldn’t have read? Great, that’s great, Eddie.”

You were turning around now, starting to push your cart towards the other end of the aisle. Roll. Squeak. Maybe it was time to head back to Ohio? Maybe you didn’t need such an obnoxious little shit back in your life. Drag. Roll. Squeak.

“I said I was sorry for not recognizing you,” he groaned and followed after you. “How much groveling am I gonna have to do?”

Oh, plenty. Plenty of groveling.

taglist: @mystars123 @h-ness1944 @ohmeg @milkymil-k

@eddiesprincess86

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #bsf!eddie munson #mechanic!eddie #bartender!eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson stranger things #desiderium part 2 #desiderium eddiessluttywaist #eddiessluttywaist #eddie munson angst #slow burn #slow burn eddie munson #desiderium series

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copperbadge · 2 years ago

Text

Am I working on Royals/Ramblers? No. Am I writing one-off short fics based on AO3 comments? Might be!

@annechen-melo pointed out that in Fete, Eddie asks Gregory what passes for diner food in Shivadh culture, and Gregory replies Eddie might know better than he would, meanwhile a book later we find out about Shivadh Fried Breakfast, which is clearly exactly the kind of food Eddie would want to know about. I was like “Haha yeah he maybe just didn’t think about it” and then I realized Eddie’s reaction and...wrote a short story in comments. :D

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Gregory wasn't aware Eddie had even gone out for breakfast until he heard his name called, looked up from his desk, and was pelted in the head with something cold and greasy. It bounced off and fell to his desk, where it turned out to be a fried chicken wing.

Eddie stood in the doorway. He looked incensed.

"I don't know what I did," Gregory said carefully, "but whatever made you just throw a chicken wing at my head, I'm sorry I did it."

"Fried breakfast," Eddie announced. Gregory gave him a mystified look. "I have lived here for FIVE MONTHS, Greg, I have fried so much food in your kitchen, five months' worth of fried food, and I had to discover Shivadh fried breakfast for myself. I'm DATING THE SHIVADH KING AND -- "

"Okay, okay, message received," Gregory said, holding up his hands, one of which still held the chicken wing.

"Message NOT received! I asked you about diner food! You said you didn't know!"

"Well, I mean," Gregory began, then ducked pre-emptively as Eddie took another chicken wing out of the bag in his hands. Instead of throwing it, he sat down at Gregory's desk and began eating it. "It's not diner food per se. It's. You know. It's beach food."

"How have you gone five months without ever once taking me out for fried breakfast?" Eddie asked. "How do you live in a country where you can just say to someone 'fried breakfast' and they serve you a full meal, and not eat it at least once a week?"

"Well, it's not great for the cardiac health," Gregory said carefully, "and as you say you've fried a lot of food for me, so...I wasn't really missing it."

"I literally built my career on the kind of place that will serve me hash browns and fried mushrooms and fried dumplings on top of the mushrooms all on one fast-disintegrating paper plate!" Eddie seethed.

"I could go for some fried mushrooms," Gregory said thoughtfully. Eddie seethed harder. "Okay, okay. I am sorry. It didn't occur to me. I don't eat it a lot! And your food was so good I didn't miss it."

Eddie subsided a little at that, but he waved the surviving portion of his chicken wing as he spoke.

"I will accept your apology, conditionally," he said. "Tomorrow is Saturday and I want you to take me to the best Fried Breakfast place you know of."

"Well, it won't be wherever you went today," Gregory said. Eddie frowned at him. "Traditional fried breakfast shacks don't serve chicken wings. They think it's bougie."

"....you let me get BOUGIE fried breakfast?" Eddie yelled.

"Did you get a sufganiyah with it?" Gregory asked.

"No! Was I supposed to?"

"Well, you have to order it King's Touch, if you do that they give you the donut, or they're supposed to anyway. It's because dad likes a jelly donut."

Eddie stared at him. "So you're telling me that not only did I get bougie fried breakfast, I could have had a jelly donut on top of it?"

"I need you to remember that you love me and I'm taking you out for fried breakfast tomorrow," Gregory said.

"Oh, now you're not just taking me for fried breakfast, we're going on a tour," Eddie said. "You're taking me to at least three different fried breakfasts."

"Three," Gregory repeated faintly.

"I no longer trust you to actually know where the best fried breakfast is. I'm texting your dad and Jerry and Alanna to ask them," Eddie said, texting literally as he spoke. "I will also be asking Simon, who will probably swear at me in French. We are going to do a tourism video entirely based around fried breakfast, because the world needs to know and you, king of this entire country, are falling down on the job."

"Well, that's why I have you," Gregory reasoned. "I'll, you know, pass the tax reforms, you tell the world about how we...miraculously don't die of heart disease in our thirties after being raised on fried breakfast."

Eddie's phone beeped. He looked down at it.

"Your dad says he won't tell me unless I sign an NDA," he said.

"Man's got to protect his access to sufganiyot," Gregory remarked. "Please don't throw chicken wings at him."

"I save all my ballistic chicken wings for you," Eddie informed him, sighing and getting up. He leaned across the desk to kiss Gregory where the wing had hit him in the forehead. "You are a hopeless case and I love you."

"You are the weirdest person I know and I love you too," Gregory said. "Go, enjoy your bougie chicken wings."

"Tomorrow morning! Bright and early, fried breakfast!" Eddie announced as he left. Gregory sighed and made a note to weasel out of his father the name of his favorite fry shack. If Dad wanted him married off, he had a vested interest in keeping Eddie happy.

#shivadhverse #annechen-melo

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waterdeep-weavemoss · 17 days ago

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To Sleep With War

Modern AU Doephael.

Doe wrung her hands and stepped gingerly into the Yule party. She tottered in heeled boots, a tasteful cinnamon brown against the warm cream of cable-knit tights. She tugged self consciously at the hem of her faux suede skirt- it was borrowed, shorter than she was used to and flimsy feeling. The jumper was hers though, a big draping thing that near swallowed her in bright red fabric.

The room was sparsely decorated, with one sad tree in the corner draped with red and gold tinsel, the half facing out dotted with cheap shiny baubles. The gift boxes beneath were just empty, wrapped with the vestiges of paper from last year. Her colleagues milled about- there was Rolan, chatting animatedly with his siblings, Alfira and her girlfriend, and then Wyll’s father and Florrick, arguing in the corner.

Scanning the room- a standard hotel function with its greige walls and threadbare stained carpet- she spotted her boss. Hunching her shoulders, she slunk off in the opposite direction. I do not want to deal with you right now. Instead, she slunk around the edge of the room, watching for her friends. Ancunin’s hair would be easiest to spot, white as starlight as it was.

‘Don’t worry, Dodo,’ drawled a voice from her left. ‘I’ll protect you from that greasy little creep if I have to.’

‘Astarion,’ she yelped, turning. ‘How many times-‘

He cut her off. ‘Too many, I’m sure.’ She scowled in reproach and he sighed. ‘Oh, alright, you spoilsport. Doe. Sweet darling timid little Doe, when are you going to grow a spine?’ He stood there in his splendour, all in emerald green. The colour brought out his eyes, the olive depths of them flecked with honey. ‘You scrub up well, don’t you?’

‘You sound surprised.’ She did not have the energy to be insulted. ‘No no,’ he insisted. ‘I always knew there was a glamour-puss under the layers of exhausted, dogged loyalty to that prick,’ he glanced over. ‘Gortash doesn’t deserve your hard work. Or your sharp little brain.’ He tapped her forehead, throwing her a megawatt grin. ‘Come with me.’ He took her hand and drew her through the milling crowd- she spotted the Vanthampurs, the Thorms, several colleagues she’d never spoken to. ‘I need you to save Gale from himself. He’s going spare.’

‘Why?’

‘Oh, you’ll see.’

He led her to a corner table at the back of the room. Lae’zel, Wyll, and Karlach were sprawled in their chairs, and Gale was talking animatedly, frowning. ‘-see, the problem with having not just colleagues but donors present is that it technically means we’re still working-‘

‘Oh, do be quiet, Dekarios,’ griped Astarion as they approached. ‘Have some wine.’

‘I will not,’ said Gale, his nostrils flaring. ‘That stuff is vinegar. And not the good kind.’

‘Vodka?’ said Doe, producing a slim hip flask from her shoulder bag.

‘Hello Doe,’ said Gale, moving to hug her briefly. He smelled like the museum library. ‘Why did you bring vodka?’

‘If you have to ask,’ cut in Karlach, raising a brow, ‘then you’ve bonked your head.’

‘Ah,’ he said, nodding sympathetically. ‘Of course.’

‘You alright there, soldier?’

‘Can’t complain.’

‘Bollocks,’ said Wyll, jabbing a finger at her for emphasis. ‘That scabby little wanker treats you the worst of all of us. You’ve got every right to complain, love.’

‘Mhm, fair.’ She took a swig. ‘If you were Gort’s secretary you’d probably drink yourself into a stupor, too.’

‘Hear hear,’ came Shadowheart’s soft voice. ‘Have you been arguing with people again?’ Raising a brow at Gale, she crossed her arms.

‘Not at all, my love. Merely a lively discussion about why in the hells we’re expected to work at our own Yule party.’ He pulled her in to kiss her soundly, drawing twin noises of disgust from Lae’zel and Astarion.

‘I don’t much care, so long as we can all get trolleyed and sing bad karaoke.’

‘Jen-‘

‘Ah,’ she put a finger to his lips.

‘Shadowheart.’ He kissed her finger. ‘I’m just saying it’s important.’

Doe leaned against the table, still anxious. Wyll and Karlach started a game of snap behind her, Astarion nursing a glass of swill. She examined her nails, their glossy red suddenly feeling cheap against the hotel backdrop. There was a buffet on the opposite wall, but she dare not approach; her memories of the last one flashed through her mind, a night spent on the bathroom floor emptying the contents of her stomach.

‘I will say,’ she piped up, turning. ‘This fiasco is not my fault. I was off sick the day this place was booked. It was actually Orin’s incompetence. I would’ve booked a stately home or something, but it was too late to change the booking, and-‘

‘Where is that secretary of mine?’ she heard too late. Snapped from her rant by a hand on her shoulder, she was steered away too quickly, stumbling slightly in her heels. ‘There you are,’ said Gortash, his breath heavy with booze. ‘I want to show you off. You look fantastic.’

Oh no. ‘But-'

‘No no, this night will go off without a hitch,’ he said cheerily, a hint of threat in his voice. ‘As long as you do your damned job.’ ‘But I’m not working,’ she started.

‘Who pays your wages?’ he hissed. ‘That’s right. Me. Now get over here and charm these bastards, or you’re fired.’ His voice was low, so as not to call attention, and she bristled at his overly familiar touch.

Her shoulders slumped. I fucking hate you. ‘Right,’ she said flatly. She’d already written his speech- tonight was supposed to be a gala, a shindig, whatever the hells they called it when a load of insufferable-

‘Ketheric, you’ve met Doe before.’

‘Ah,’ said a man she recognised. ‘Yes. I seem to remember you as accomplished. Congratulations on being above the rest of this rabble.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said. Judgy bastard.

‘Most accomplished, yes,’ said Gortash. ‘Though I am certain she has other more useful talents.’

She shuddered, disgusted at the oiliness of his tone. He squeezed her shoulder in warning. ‘I read Classics,’ she supplied pointedly. ‘Specifically studying the intersection between the…’ she began, though the words died as her boss dug his yellowing nails in, painfully. ‘I mean,’ she said, suddenly sounding saccharine. ‘I have to say, the Watch has really expanded its scope, and in the new year we’re hoping to put all this generous funding to use on the new site. I’m sure you’re aware of the challenges we’re facing? Protesters and activists, the journalists are not happy with the state of progress. Your generosity is wonderful and very much needed.’

‘Good girl,’ murmured Gortash low in her ear as she finished her spiel, feeling bile rise in her throat. He let her go and wandered tipsily off to harass a waitress, and Doe let out a breath.

‘Well,’ said Ketheric politely. ‘I think maybe you’ve twisted my arm, Doe. I shall have to have a think about what we can give once dinner is concluded. Isn’t it true that places like this are only as good as their admin?’ He winked, turning away to talk to his wife, an ethereal looking woman in silver and white. Doe rolled her shoulders and clenched her fists, breathing through her mouth in an effort not to throw up. The clock on the wall read as barely 8pm, and already she wanted desperately to go home and scrub herself clean. She took a couple tottering steps back towards her friends, but warm fingers closed around her wrist, halting her. She turned, half expecting Gortash’s return.

‘Forgive me,’ said the man who held her arm. ‘I heard you mention you studied Classics, and I’d be fascinated to hear more. Would you please?’ He gestured to the chair across from him and she nodded, standing awkwardly. He was handsome in a rich man sort of way- sharply pressed Italian cut suit, neatly combed dark hair, and skin that clearly saw the sun. But it was his voice, the low, growling purr of it, that arrested her attention. He threw her a charming smile, eyes glittering like the two fingers of cognac in the glass on the table. ‘You’re shaking,’ he pointed out.

She was, she realised. Her hands trembled at her sides. Exhaling, she tried to smile. ‘Oh, I’m fine, actually, I think I should go back to my friends.’

‘Take a moment. He scares you, doesn’t he?’

Astute. ‘No.’

‘Come now,’ he said, looking unimpressed. ‘If you can’t be honest with a stranger, who can you be honest with?’

‘A little.’

‘He treats you poorly.’

‘Yes, he does.’

‘Sit with me.’

‘I shouldn’t really,’ she said shyly. ‘I’m technically working.’

‘At a party?’ he said incredulously. ‘Absolutely not. You enjoy yourself. I’m not sure I caught your name though, my dear.’

‘Doe.’

‘Doe. A sweet name for a sweet face. Named for deer or rabbit?’

She blinked in surprise. ‘Rabbit, actually. Most people just assume deer…’

‘I take pride in paying attention,’ he said. ‘You must have a libation for telling your tale. Please.’ He gestured to the glass of cognac. ‘Try it. I insist.’

She didn’t know how he knew she never had, and didn’t want to question it. ‘I… sorry. I’ll just get another glass, I have some vodka in my-‘

‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘Go on.’ He pushed the glass toward her. ‘You don’t look contagious.’ He smiled, almost daring her to do it.

‘Okay.’ She perched gingerly on the edge of the chair opposite him and picked up the glass, turning the amber liquid this way and that. Taking a small sip, she coughed as it burned down her throat.

‘Small steps,’ said the stranger. ‘Give it a moment to develop.’

After the burn was a blooming of flavour- oak and sweet spice, vanilla and caramel. ‘Oh, it’s really nice. I like that.’

He watched her set down the glass, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘Auspicious. Now, tell me your opinion of that new translation of The Odyssey, would you? I fear I might die of boredom if that slimy little employer of yours approaches me again.’

Her eyes widened. ‘I hope he doesn’t hear you saying that.’

‘I hope he does,’ he snarled. ‘He ought to be brought low, that one. You can tell me how you ended up in his service another time. Please, go on.’

‘Oh, well,’ she said. ‘I think the new translation is good, definitely more accessible for the layperson, but I do think it misses some of the magic of the original. Sometimes the value in these texts, I find, is in untangling them. And if there’s nothing to untangle, it feels a little bit soulless. There’s value in it for sure, but I didn’t fall in love with Classics as a discipline because it was easy.’

‘Well said.’ He smiled, sipped from the glass. ‘Would you like some more?’ He placed it in front of her.

‘I shouldn’t.’

‘That,’ he said slyly, ‘isn’t what I asked.’

She blushed, embarrassed. ‘Well. Yes, I would. As a matter of fact.’

‘Then drink.’

She drank. ‘I don’t miss my uni days,’ she continued, unprompted. ‘They were pretty awful, broadly speaking. A lot of my lecturers seemed to really be stuck in the dark ages-‘

‘Such is the life of an academic,’ he sighed dramatically. ‘I can’t say I miss my university days, either. Though they’re doubtless much further away than yours.’

‘I’m 30,’ she said. ‘And frankly it was this job or rot in obscurity at home.’

‘30 whole years? You jest, surely?’ His eyes widened and he leaned forward. ‘Why, you look positively cherubic.’

She frowned slightly, unsure how to take the theatricality in stride. ‘Well,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m glad to be here, no matter what age. Better to live than the alternative, no?’

‘Certainly.’ He smiled, a flash of perfect white teeth. ‘Though not under the thumb.’

‘I’m not.’

He regarded her silently for a moment. His gaze seemed to burn, her stomach swooping. Even when she looked away, his eyes did not waver. ‘Hmmm. Indeed. Listen, you go home. Have a nice evening. I’ll deal with him. But…’ he looked suddenly more intense, reaching into his suit pocket. ‘Take my card. I’d hate for this to be our first and last meeting, Doe. You’re wasted in a place like this. Now go, slip away before he notices.’

‘This is a really bad idea.’

‘The very best kind,’ he said with a quirk of the brow. His eyes gleamed conspiratorially.

She took the card. ‘Thank you. Who should I ask for when I call?’

‘I am Raphael,’ he said, taking her small hand in his to shake firmly. ‘It's been a pleasure. I hope we see one another again soon.’

‘See you,’ she said, rising to her feet. With a quick glance around, she scurried off to the exit, slipping into the night.

‘Get home safe,’ he said, voice carrying to her on the wind as she closed the door.

Huddling into her jumper, she began the short walk home. Her hands fumbled the keys, it was so cold; letting herself into her flat finally, she sighed in relief, locked the door, and stripped out of her uncomfortable clothes. ‘Fucking hell,’ she said, peeling back her tights to reveal bloody blisters. ‘I need to quit my job.’

She showered, ate a chocolate bar, and ignored the dishes in the sink that had been there for the last week in favour of texting the number on the glossy black business card in her pocket.

Hey, she wrote. I’m home safe. Thank you for looking out for me today. I appreciate it. -Doe

Not five minutes later came the response:

You said you were going to call. -R

Her stomach flipped. It’s a little late.

Many words or sleep, yes. I understand. Sweet dreams, little Doe. -R

The very counterfeit of death. It’s nice that you understand. Goodnight.

Tags:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @12thhouse-sun

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

@femmefuck @spooky-lil-bee @m00kieblaylock

#doephael #mine #features gortash being a terrible boss #raphael x tav #tsww

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jootloop · 27 days ago

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the humble greasy brown paper bag activates my fatfur programming on a brisk monday afternoon, onlookers stunned

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holylulusworld · 1 year ago

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Beloved corn dog

Summary: Dean finds something delicious.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Warnings: language, fun, crack, Dean loves food

A/N: Inspired by this post: Corn dog

“Damn, look at you sweetheart. You are the prettiest thing I ever laid eyes on,” Dean purrs inside the motel room. “What I would give to have you every day.”

You snicker as the hunter keeps on seducing whoever he has brought to his room tonight.

You’re usually not the nosy kind of person but hearing Dean made you curious. While you press your ear to the door, the hunter continues.

“What if I do it slow, huh? Would you like that, pretty thing?”

You grin. Dean is a master at seducing people. Men and women fall for him wherever he goes. He doesn’t even need to put much effort into getting someone’s attention.

“Let me lick you all over.”

Pressing one hand over your mouth you try to suppress a giggle. You can’t believe Dean just said that.

“Hmm…you like that, don’t cha?” He purrs, and then you hear him groan deeply. “Fuck, you taste so good. Can I have more?”

Your eyes grow wide at the noises Dean makes. He slurps, groans, and smacks his lips together. “Fuck, I can’t do it slow. I have to have you right now.”

“Oh my god,” you curse yourself for not stopping your tongue before it’s too late.

Dean opens the door, a gun aimed at your head while the other holds something you cannot identify.

“Y/N?” Dean wonders why you stand in front of his room, looking like he caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. “Something wrong?”

“Uh-sorry,” you clear your throat. “I wanted to ask if you want to share the food I bought.” You lift the big brown paper bag filled with greasy food. “I didn’t want to disturb you and…uh…whoever is with you.”

He furrows his brows. “There is no one here but me, Y/N,” Dean says. He opens his door wider to let you have a look inside.

“But you were talking to someone. I heard you…I mean…” you stammer nervously. “You said you want to lick them all over and stuff. Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not lying,” he grins. “I was talking to this.” He lifts his hand, waving it in front of your face to show you what he’s holding. “See, that’s my newest discovery. I’m a food enthusiast and want to try all the food I can find on my travels.”

“What the fuck is that?” You wrap your hand around his wrist to get a better look at the food in his hand. “Are these French fries on a stick?”

“No, no,” he excitedly says. “That’s a French fry crusted corndog.”

“A what?” You blink a few times. “That doesn’t look very healthy Dean.”

“You have to try it, Y/N,” he pushes the monstrosity in your hand. “I got three more. Two for me, and one for Sammy.”

“Uh…”

“Try it,” Dean nods to encourage you. “It’s a corn dog, with cheese and French fries. I had to buy it.”

“French fries on a corn dog,” you wrinkle your nose. “Where did you get it?”

“There was this small stall at the farmer's market. A cute girl was selling it. She said it’s Korean street food, and that people love it.” Dean licks his lips. “Go ahead, take a bite. It won’t bite.” He chuckles at his rhyme. “I’ll have one of the others.”

“Okay. If I die because of this thing, I’ll haunt you, Winchester,” you point the corn dog at Dean. “Now, let’s see…”

Dean watches you nibble at the fries at first. You hum, moan, and then you start to feast on the corn dog. “That’s so good,” you chew loudly, almost choking on the food. “So…so good.”

“I told you so,” Dean takes a large bite of his corn dog. “Do you want to join my food club?”

“If I get to eat food like this, I’m all in,” you give Dean a wink. “Let me just finish this one off. We can try to find the perfect dessert after I’m done…”

Tags in reblog.

#Beloved corn dog #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x gn!reader #gn!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x you

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valiantwombatpanda · 1 year ago

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I have such a disgust for McDonald's.

Growing up, my family was obese and I have so many memories of being in the car, the smell of leather and my mother's perfume making me feel car sick, and my mother going, "Oh! Mickey D's... let me grab a diet coke."

I can FEEL the turn into the drive thru as I'm typing this. The smell of just... grease hitting my nose, the awful beeping, and the loud colors of McDonald's. I felt like I was going to break out just looking at the McDonald's. I remember my mother's legs pooling over the side of her seat in the car as she ordered a "double cheese burger with extra ketchup, a large fry, a diet coke, and if available... 2 hash browns."

I remember getting into fights with her because I didn't want anything there... it was our 3rd time in this memory being at McDonald's that DAY. Always the same order, always the same fight. She tried to convince me it was healthy food and good for me. I refused.

I can remember being handed a brown bag with grease splattered onto it and having to rustle through the papers and having to unwrap her sandwich (because she was driving), I can remember the feeling of her reaching into my lap and grabbing some fries. I can hear the LOUD chewing, the heavy breathing, the rustling of the bag, I can still hear when she would finish chewing, swallow, let out a hard breath through her nose and then reach right back into my lap for another handful of fries. I can hear the cars passing us on the road, the perfume mixed with grease has made my stomach worse, and the sound of her eating with the faint mumbled voice of some talk show host with lead stare political views going on in the background only made my motion sickness worse. My head would get dizzy, and my eyes would DART to the middle of the road to keep from throwing up... then the feeling of her hand reaching into the McDonald's bag again would pull me back to watching her in a way that made me feel superior (and guilty/shocked for thinking I was) for knowing and not participating in whatever the hell this was. To me, it was the brainwashing of the American public into thinking this was, if not top-shelf health, at least considered to be an acceptable normal.

I remember watching her from the seat and just being absolutely REPULSED by her. An awful feeling to have towards my own mother... but at the same time... how can she try and convince me THIS was healthy? The double chin, struggling to get on a seat belt, heavy breathing and greasy fingers... the SMELL.

I haven't eaten at McDonald's since I was 15 and I honestly never fucking plan to. It brings me back to the hours and hours of screaming back and forth with my family about McDonald's not being healthy and just because I don't want to eat THERE doesn't mean I'm not fucking hungry and don't want to eat. No wonder i have such a raging ED 🥲

#skinnni #thinsi #st4rv1ng #ana trigger #tw ana diary #tw restrictive ed #ana rant #thinspø #ana meal #an0rexia

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ap41cu5 · 6 months ago

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The Rookie Detective: Joseph Oda x Fem! Reader (Chapter 4)

short synposis: joseph goes and visits sebastian, only to find out both his alcoholism and living conditions were worse than he thought. after helping him tidy up a bit and sustaining a cut on his face, the reader takes care of his wounds and lets him stay the night after he caught a cold <3

a/n: omg this only took me like a week to upload idk why this took me so long to write 😭 and these chapters just keep getting longer so i cut it a bit short at the end </3

word count: 4331

“Hey! Open up, I know you’re in there.”

Silence.

“Ugh,” Joseph grumbled, pounding on the door another few times.

“I’m not leaving until you open the door! I don’t care how long you decide to ignore me for!”

More silence.

The lush potted plants that used to decorate the patio had turned brown and moldy. A thick layer of dust coated his door handle, indicating that Sebastian hadn’t had visitors in a long while.

“Don’t make me break down this door, Sebastian!” Joseph exclaimed, knocking another frustrated 3-4 times.

With an exasperated sigh, Joseph leaned onto one of the pillars just outside of Sebastian’s door.

He waited for about 30 seconds before he decided to begin knocking again until he heard the sweet sound of the latch unlocking. Finally emerging from behind the door, Sebastian’s hair was greasy and run amok, his now raggedy white tee-shirt was stained with what appeared to be remnants of alcohol, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“What do you want, Joseph? Just leave me be,” Sebastian’s voice was low and husky.

“You know I can’t do that,” Joseph said, letting himself in as he lightly pushed Sebastian aside to get through.

Taking off his shoes, Joseph’s nose immediately crinkled up at the sheer stench of the inside of his home. It reeked of alcohol and dust mixed with body odor. The entirety of his living room was riddled with stains, empty beer cans, and leftover bottles of wine. There was dust all over the fireplace and on the coffee table. As he entered the living room, taking in the gross and utterly pitiful sight, his attention was redirected by a noise from beside him.

“Do you like your gift, Lily?”

Joseph turned to the source of the sound. There was a video playing on the TV, it appeared to have been recorded on an old VHS. Myra was sitting next to Lily in front of a Christmas tree as she helped Lily to open her gift. A large, white teddy bear emerged from the red and white wrapping paper, it wore a Christmas hat and held a big red heart.

“I love it! Thanks so much papa!” Lily squeezed the bear in a hug before running behind the camera and into Sebastian’s arms.

The sight pained Joseph. How long has Sebastian been watching that for? Reminiscing over old memories of the family who had been brutally stolen from him?

“When’s the last time you’ve cleaned up around here? Or even taken a shower?” Joseph asked.

Joseph quickly went to find Sebastian’s pantry closet, where he grabbed a black trash bag and began to clean up all the leftover beer cans and bottles of wine.

How does he live like this? Joseph thought to himself, his trash bag already halfway full despite there being even more bottles, cans, and even used tissues to clean up.

Sebastian didn’t say a word, but decided the least he could do was help him clean up the mess. Grabbing a trash bag and standing beside Joseph, he too began to clean up all of the trash left scattered around the living room.

Neither of them said a word as they both collected all of the leftover remnants.

As Joseph picked up the last beer can, a cockroach scurried out from underneath, making him wince.

“Eugh, when’s the last time you’ve vacuumed?” Joseph asked as he watched the cockroach crawl behind the couch.

Sebastian didn’t answer, only grabbing the two full trash bags and taking them to the trash bin in his front yard. As Joseph went to return to the pantry for a vacuum cleaner, he noticed an empty bottle of alcohol left on his kitchen table.

“Looks like I missed one,” Joseph muttered to himself as he went to grab the bottle.

Grabbing the bottle by its neck, it slipped out of his grasp before he was able to catch it. The bottle smashed against the floor with a jarring ‘kersploosh!’

Shit.

Gathering up all the shards with his hands, he dumped all of the shards into a small trash bag to be thrown out later.

Joseph sighed, rubbing off any dust that got on his face. Returning to the pantry closet in search of a vacuum, he noticed a drop of red drip onto the floor.

Was that.. blood?

A second drop of blood dripped onto his sock.

“Ouch!” Joseph lightly winced as he felt around his face for an open cut.

There was what felt to be a slight cut just underneath his eye, and he had just added a second one as he continued to feel around his face. Looking down at his glove, there were small bits of glass shards likely from the broken bottle he dropped. It stung, but it was getting late and Joseph wanted to return home as quickly as he could for work in the morning. So he settled for quickly removing his gloves for the time being and dabbing the bleed site with a paper towel before he quickly returned to tending to Sebastian’s ungodly living situation.

Plugging the vacuum in, he proceeded to vacuum the entire area of carpet within his living room. The sound of the vacuum running over the carpet elicited a series of cracking noises as it removed all the dust and grime. As Sebastian re-emerged from his garage, he assisted Joseph by moving his furniture out of the way for Joseph to vacuum.

Minutes turned into hours as Joseph cleaned up around Sebastian’s home for him. While his home wasn’t exactly spotless, it was certainly in better condition than before.

“You should really consider getting help, Sebastian. Maybe getting a therapist,” Joseph suggested, taking his glasses off and inspecting all of the dust that covered its lenses.

Sebastian, again, didn’t answer. Only breaking eye contact.

“I appreciate your help, Joseph.” “Hey, I’m serious! This isn’t healthy. How long have you been rewatching that video of Myra and Lily? You can’t drink all your problems away, Sebastian!” Joseph frustratedly huffed.

“What I do outside of work is none of your goddamn business.”

“I know you’re upset right now, so I’ll give you time to think over my offer. But, I do hope that you will begin therapy by your own prerogative,” Joseph replied as he put his glasses back on and began to make his way to the door.

Unsurprisingly, Joseph was only met by silence.

Shutting the front door behind him, Joseph pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood at the front of the patio.

“Please don’t make this harder than this already is, Sebastian,” Joseph muttered to himself under his breath.

Taking one final glance at the patio before he set on his way, he noticed one of the potted plants had been knocked over, likely due to the wind. He never knew Myra enjoyed gardening, but the abundance of plants around the house spoke for themselves. He carefully picked up the pot and set it upright, the leaves crunching as they rattled within the confines of the pot.

Joseph sighed. The scene was nothing short of depressive.

“Not even the plants can survive without you, Myra,” said Joseph as he carefully scooped back up the loose soil that fell out of the pot.

“Wherever you are,” he paused for a moment, “Sebastian misses you. Both you and Lily.”

He got up, quickly dusting himself off as he finally made his way to his car. The deep blue color of the sky flooded the streets in darkness. With the only hint of illumination cascading down onto the busy streets from the moon, Joseph nearly tripped over his own two feet.

Just about to approach the last step down from Sebastian’s porch, his phone loudly rang from the inside of his pocket. The jarring sound made him jump as he quickly fumbled through his pockets to answer the rather unexpected phone call. Looking down at the caller ID, he held a certain level of uncertainty as to whether or not he remembered your phone number correctly, and if it really was you he was receiving a call from.

“Hello?” Joseph spoke into the phone, hoping to hear your voice on the other line.

“Joseph?” You replied, your voice a bit gravely after just waking up.

“(First Name)! I thought you’d be sleeping!” He replied, his heart rate immediately increasing upon hearing your voice.

“Your note was so considerate, Joseph. I– uh..” you gulped, “I wanted to check up on you.” Joseph immediately felt his face heat up.

“You.. you did?” He stammered, flattered that you were thinking of him.

“In the note you wrote that in case I was sleeping, you said you didn’t want to call in case you’d wake me up since I hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. So.. I wanted to check up on you. To see how everything went with Sebastian.”

You were just so sweet. You should have been sleeping right now, really. You were very clearly exhausted by how you were acting in the office earlier that day. He could even hear the exhaustion in your voice, but here you were, sacrificing precious time just to check up on him. His stomach was doing somersaults and he could feel his face heat up all the way up to his ears.

“It– it went.. alright I suppose. Sebastian’s not doing so great. He’s been watching this video on repeat for– God knows how long– of Lily and Myra opening Christmas presents. His house was a mess. All kinds of empty bottles of alcohol, and so much dust and grime everywhere. He’s falling apart,” Joseph felt his chest tighten, “I wanted to help him clean up as much as I could before I had to go back home, so I helped him clean up a bit and vacuum. And of course, I accidentally knocked over a bottle and cut myself on my face of all places.”

“That’s very kind of you, Joseph. Simply based on what I’ve heard, I would highly advise him to begin seeing a therapist. And, who’s Myra and Lily?” You asked.

Joseph sighed, he accidentally said too much.. again.

“I’m sorry, (First Name). I would tell you, but I still hold a lot of respect for Sebastian. He’s been a very good friend of mine for years, I would never want to ruin that,” he explained, feeling a bit bad for continuing to leave you confused.

“That’s alright, Joseph. I understand completely. And– and you said that you accidentally cut yourself, right? You didn’t happen to cut yourself with glass, did you?” You inquired, unsure of whether to be concerned or not.

“Uh.. yeah,” Joseph replied, a tinge of embarrassment present in his tone.

“Shit, did you tend to it properly!? Come back to my apartment,” you told him.

Joseph elicited a noise which consisted of a mix of grunt of confusion and slight panic. “Glass cuts can leave microshards which could be dangerous if they enter your bloodstream! I’ll clean it up for you, just come over to my apartment! I’ll remove them for you.” You quickly interjected,

“(First Name), are you sure that’s necessary? The cuts are really shallow–” “Just do it!” Your voice was laced with a sort of motherly aggression with how insistent you were on tending to his wounds.

He seemed to contemplate for a moment whether he should truly decline the offer or not. Despite how much he would enjoy the extra time with you, it was getting quite late. But apparently, the word “no” had recently escaped from his vocabulary.

“Alright, I’m on my way,” Joseph replied, nearly facepalming upon hearing how quickly he said accepted your offer.

You almost fell out of your seat, you weren’t expecting him to say yes so quickly. But you were glad to spend more time with him.

“Sounds great! I–I mean, well, I’m glad I can tend to your wound since glass cuts can be tricky,” you stammered, you likely sounded a bit too excited for him to be coming over again.

A smile pricked at the corners of Joseph’s mouth.

“I’ll see you soon, (First Name).”

Shortly after hanging up the phone, Joseph inwardly sighed before taking a moment to gaze up at the night sky.

“You really are going to be the death of me, (First Name),” Joseph muttered to himself before quickly entering the front seat of his car.

You were practically bouncing off the walls, but you kept reminding yourself that the only reason he was coming over was so that you could help him tend to his cuts. Quickly rinsing your face with cold water to bring down the persistent blush that never seemed to falter at the idea of him, you quickly rushed to grab your first aid kit from one of your drawers. Quickly setting it down onto your coffee table, you rushed to your bathroom for some cotton balls, tweezers and some hydrogen peroxide. You quickly fixed the pillows on your couch and dusted off your coffee table a bit, even spraying a bit of air freshener just in case. Right after the last spritz, as if on cue, you heard a knock at your door.

You practically threw the air freshener down as you scurried over to the door, not wanting to leave him waiting (and also being way too excited to see him), you quickly opened the door to greet him.

As the door swung open, the open cuts on Joseph’s face, just underneath his left eye, immediately caught your attention. While they didn’t look too deep, one of them stretched from the middle of his cheekbone all the way to just underneath the corner of his eye. The second one, while not as long, was significantly deeper and intersected the first cut, it looked about an inch long.

“Jesus, Joseph! How did you cut your face that badly?” You asked, a bit of blood threatening to spill from the second cut on his face.

Not even giving him a chance to answer, you grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him.

He let out a surprised grunt as his shoes squeaked against your floor as he tried to maintain his balance.

“I– sorry,” he meekly apologized as he quickly kicked off his shoes before walking onto your carpet.

“Here, have a seat,” you directed him to your couch where you quickly sat beside him to begin treating his wounds.

“Please remove your glasses,” you directed as you grabbed a cotton ball.

You poured a bit of hydrogen peroxide onto the cotton ball as you very gently dabbed it onto his face. He winced immediately, flinching a bit upon contact.

Gently resting your hand on the back of his head, you gently blew onto the open cut so it wouldn’t sting as much.

“Just a few more seconds, Joseph. I just need to sterilize the site of the injury before I can properly treat it,” you explained as you continuously dabbed the cotton ball onto his cheek while blowing onto it.

He nodded in response, and you quickly finished up the disinfection process before you quickly grabbed your tweezers. Upon further inspection, there were tiny glass shards sitting inside of the smaller, deeper cut.

“There’s a couple of glass shards in one of the cuts. I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, I promise,” you cooed, gently pushing his head towards you so you could take a better look.

He bit the inside of his cheek at the blush that flooded his cheeks.

“Try to stay as still as you can for me,” you gently requested, unconsciously biting your lip as you tried your best to stay focused.

He gulped, his eyes darting between your hand, your eyes, and your lips. He could’ve sworn he could hear his heart racing with how close you were, that focused look in your eyes, and the way you bit down on your lip. On the bright side, it served as a good distraction. He almost couldn’t feel the tweezers reaching into the cut on his face and removing the wedged pieces of glass.

“There you go. Just like that,” you muttered as you carefully pulled out the last tiny glass shard.

As you finally took your hand off of the base of his neck and turned to put down the tweezers, Joseph let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding in to begin with. He felt his hands slowly unclench the base of his thighs and his shoulders loosen.

Quickly grabbing some neosporin, you squeezed a small amount onto your finger and turned back to Joseph.

“We’re almost done,” you smiled, motioning for him to turn his head slightly towards you again.

“Try to be more careful next time, please. Had this cut been even just a tad bit longer, you would’ve cut yourself in the eye,” your thumb lightly grazing over the end of the slit, just underneath his eye.

“You’re lucky none of these cuts were too deep, either. The last thing you’d want is stitches. But these look shallow enough to be able to heal on their own. Hopefully they don’t leave any scars..” you were so close he could feel your breath against his neck.

He felt himself tense at the close proximity. The scent of your hair conditioner flooded his senses and he could feel every single word in his vocabulary get stolen from him. His words had escaped him, and he was unable to say a single word. His face was beet red, his blush even more apparent given his pale complexion.

Confused that he hadn’t responded, you took a moment to step back and scan his face, wondering if you had said something wrong. Immediately, the blush on his face caught your attention. Had you overstepped his boundaries? You quickly retracted your hand and immediately felt a pit in your chest open up. Had you made him uncomfortable? “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to overstep if I got a bit too touchy. I guess I just– I don't know– I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable–” you stammered, unconsciously beginning to twirl your hair in discomfort.

“No, no it’s alright! I– I guess must have spaced out, it was nothing you did (First Name). You didn’t overstep at all, and you were very gentle. I promise,” Joseph reassured you as he placed a hand on your shoulder, the blush on his cheeks gradually beginning to subside.

Now it was your turn to become flustered, apparently. Your cheeks lit up at the contact as you finally looked up at him. Your eyes catching a glimpse of his hands without his gloves for the first time. His fingers were long and slender, with a few veins stretching from his knuckles all the way down to his forearms. They were even prettier than you had imagined.

“Thank you for taking care of me, (First Name). We’ve only just met and you’re already lending me your kindness. And for that I thank you,” he added, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

You were just so beautiful. Inside and out, and that fact had him in a chokehold. Part of him wanted to kiss you, badly. And the other part of him internally scolded himself for having such thoughts about you, an amazing woman that he had only just met.

You couldn’t find the words to speak at first, you were too flustered to even think straight. At first, all you could do was give him a small nod.

“Y-yeah, any– anytime, Joseph. It’s– it’s no problem, really!” You stumbled over your words, beet red at this point.

You could feel his hand slowly move upwards, his hand just barely touching the base of your neck. As you looked up at him, your lips unconsciously parting, his eyes seemed to dart between your eyes and your mouth.

The tension was killing you. You had only just met him and yet here you were, falling, hard.

You quickly stood up, “How about I make you some tea!” You said as you made your way over to the kitchen.

“Ah– sure,” he replied, stifling a chuckle at your reaction.

“I have all sorts of teas here, I have Green, Earl Gray, chai, English Breakfast, which would you prefer?” You asked, taking extra care to hide your blushing face as you rummaged through your pantry.

“Earl Gray would be perfect!” He replied, leaning back on your couch, the soft pillows cradling his back perfectly.

The scent of your air freshener was strangely relaxing. His eyes seemed to shut on their own as he let his head rest on the back of your couch. The light whirr from your fan and the sound of you preparing his tea was oddly comforting. He was exhausted from all of the events of today. He took extra care to drive you home after work, he had to help Sebastian clean up his living area, and he was going to have to drive home now after you finished preparing his tea.

What time is it right now? Should I shower tonight or in the morning? I’ll probably shower in the morning since I’ll be too tired once I get home. It sure smells nice in (First Name)’s apartment. Joseph thought to himself, but all of his scattered thoughts slowly grew quieter. He was so tired he hadn’t even realized he was slowly drifting off to sleep.

After a few minutes of warming up the water and letting the tea bag steep, you stirred some honey into his tea. After you threw out the tea bag, you were finally ready to serve it to Joseph.

Carefully placing the mug onto your coffee table, “It’s a bit hot, so be careful,” you said, only to be met by Joseph’s sleeping form. His ankles were crossed and his arms were folded over his stomach. His head was slightly tilted to the side. You quietly admired his features as he laid there. He had very nice, sharp features. Prominent cheekbones with a sharp jawline and a noticeably good side profile. He looked so tranquil. How could you ever want to wake someone who looked so soothed and peaceful while they slept?

You were taken aback when he elicited a sudden twitch in his sleep. You quickly looked away in case he woke up, not wanting to be caught staring. Slowly looking back at him, you now had another problem on your hands. A moral dilemma, if you will.

Should you wake him up and get him to go home and rest? Or should you just let him sleep here? What is the right thing to do in this situation? Part of you wanted to just let him sleep there, but what if he got upset once he awoke for not waking him up? You sighed, deciding that the best thing to do would be to wake him up.

You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, “Joseph!” You whisper-yelled, hoping that somehow, that would be enough to wake him.

Unsurprisingly, he was still asleep.

You lightly shook him, “Joseph?” You called out again, and were slightly disappointed when he began to stir and wake up from his slumber.

His eyes slowly opened, taking in his surroundings like he had forgotten where he was for a moment. He lightly rubbed his eyes as he slowly began to sit back up.

“O-oh, (First Name). I hadn’t realized I fell asleep,” he yawned, searching for his glasses.

You quickly took his glasses from your table and handed them to him, your hands just barely touching for a moment.

“Thanks,” he quickly muttered as he put his glasses on.

He seemed to take a moment to let his eyes adjust to the brightness of your living room as his blinking had become slightly more rapid and he was still slightly squinting.

“Achoo!” He sneezed, covering his mouth with his elbow.

He sniffled, rubbing one of his eyes.

“Bless you,” you said, immediately grabbing him a tissue.

He cleared his throat.

“I.. I don’t feel very well. I think I may have caught something after my visit to Sebastian’s place,” Joseph grumbled, his voice sounding nasally with congestion.

“Have some tea! It'll make you feel better!” You quickly advised, handing him the mug.

He gently took the mug from you and had a sip. His eyebrows raised slightly in pleasant surprise.

“You make very good tea,” he commented, taking another sip before breaking out into a violent coughing fit.

“Oh Joseph, you might be coming down with something,” you speculated, pressing the back of your fingertips onto his forehead.

“You’re burning up, Joseph!” You said in a conciliatory tone, “Why don’t you stay here for the night? You need to rest.”

“No– I couldn’t possibly ask that of you,” Joseph politely declined as he tried to stand, before breaking into another violent coughing fit.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. You took the time to drive me home, walk me all the way here, and even tuck me in. Please, I insist,” you placed a hand on his shoulder as you looked him in the eyes.

You were just so painfully hard to say no to.

“Ah.. alright. Thank you, (First Name).” You couldn’t fight the big smile that spread across your face.

“Would you like to take a shower? You’re welcome to use mine. And I’ll get you some clothes to change into as well!” You added as you got up to find your dresser.

“That would be great. Thank you again,” he sniffled as he went to grab another tissue.

The moment you left the room and shut the door behind you, you couldn’t help but jump up and down like a little kid. Right as you finally settled down, you gathered some of your most oversized clothes to provide for him.

Who knew taking care of the guy you liked would be so fun?

#joseph oda x reader #joseph oda #the evil within #the evil within 2 #fanfic #fanfiction #juli kidman #reader insert #sebastian castellanos #tew x reader

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paperbackribs · 1 year ago

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writing a spooky one off where Andy, Jason Carver's friend, who chased down Erica Sinclair in Stranger Things gets his comeuppance over Halloween. witchy things are afoot (aka from the steve is a witch universe lol) here's an excerpt -

"Andy ignores the flickering of the fluorescents above him at The Soda Fountain; the fragmented light is barely noticeable in the busy post-school rush.

The lit-up jukebox behind him faintly plays the eerie pulsating synth of Rockwell; the lead calls out that it’s close to midnight, evil is lurking, and somebody is watching him from across the darkness. Andy rolls his eyes again, but this time at whoever’s getting into the Halloween mood with their music choices.

His chips are halfway up to his open mouth when Andy realises that Lynda’s frozen expression is literal. She’s not moved, her soft, shining lips parted, light brown eyes averted and elbows locked.

Andy flicks his gaze beyond her and sees that Ron is frozen too, as if by an invisible hand, as is Jesse and Grady in the booth behind them. The sea of green and white outfits of the basketball team eerily stopped in place.

Ron’s long column of his neck is bare and defenceless as his head stays tilted up towards the high ceilings. Jesse’s jacket gapes open with his hand reaching behind as if to scratch his back. None of the boys, or the girls at the end table, move. All motion is arrested. Silent and uncanny like a film paused mid-action.

His heart beating irregularly in his chest, Andy dares to turn his gaze to the rest of the parlour. The open space is unnaturally soundless, the servers in their white and blue dresses paused in the act of serving drinks or bussing tables, their arms outstretched leaving the naked skin of their arms and legs exposed.

Andy is the only one aware of this strange and impossible moment. As he looks further, he notes a crimson tinge that inexplicably seeps further into his world.

The checkered walls subtly bend and warp, red bleeding below his sneakers to coat the white plastic in a nasty, faded pink. The corners of the room become formless and dark, twisting among the frozen figures of his peers to sinisterly embrace them.

Andy is helpless, able to move himself but terrified to in case the horror of the room turns its focuses on him. The hunted feeling intensifies as though he has become vulnerable like fleeing prey.

The jukebox's synth bassline is completely forgotten as the whispers start, forming into the sweet sound of a young girl’s softly lilting voice as she sings:

In the darkest corners, he'll win the race,

Through the moonlight's glow and the shadows' embrace.

He hunts you down, you can’t find a safe place,

Run away, run away—

The enchantment of the child’s voice is abruptly broken off as Andy is jostled by none other than Munson the Freak as he walks past Andy, accidentally bumping into him. The howling of a wolf breaks the silence and Andy startles until he realises that it’s the beginning of Thriller over the jukebox.

“Sorry,” Munson sneers over his retracting elbow, walking past with a greasy paper bag and absent of respect for his betters, but the rest of the room is suddenly and blessedly full of loud movement and sound. A glass nosily smashes to the floor and a boy hoots across the space at his friends; the extraordinary hush is broken."

#eddie munson #erica sinclair #stranger things #guess what horror films I've been watching!#witchsteve #paperbackribs writing #halloween

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fandomsaligninstories · 11 months ago

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Year One: Day One

Chapter List WC: 2,413

2nd September, 1991

When the alarm first went off at 7am, Violet wanted to throw the thing against a wall. She hadn't noticed the alarms the night before, so one of the other girls had to of set one. She certainly didn't want to leave her warm and cosy bed, but she could hear the other girls already moving about.

She drew the curtains open and sat on the edge of the bed, watching all three of her roommates move around. Hannah was still in her pyjamas, pulling out a clean outfit from her trunk. The two other girls were taking turns in the bathroom. The first girl, who was brushing her teeth, had golden tan skin and straight blonde hair that fell to her waist. The other girl, who was trying to fix her tie into a proper knot, had deep brown skin and nearly black hair in tight, long braids.

Violet pulled out her own outfit for the day, crawling back into her bed and closing the curtains to change. When she was done, she moved towards the now vacant bathroom.

"Morning!" The blonde chirped, her high-pitched voice shocking Violet, who spun around to see the girl leaning against the dorm entrance, "You're Violet, right? Hannah and Aimee already went down for breakfast. I'm Caroline Dodd, it's nice to meet you!"

The girl was very chipper for it being so early, Violet couldn't help but feed off of her energy, "Hi! Nice to meet you too! I'll be just a moment, then we can walk down together?"

"Sure!" Caroline smiled widely, showing all her teeth.

Violet quickly finished getting ready for the day before following after Caroline, her heavy book bag slung across her back.

Breakfast was just as exciting as dinner the night before. There were platters upon platters of food, including several types of eggs, fruit, sausage, cereal, kippers, bacon, fresh squeezed juice, toast with varying options of jam and marmalade, and more.

The Great Hall was also louder than the night before, all the new and returning students catching up and introducing themselves.

Violet listened quietly while the people around her talked. Aside from her three roommates, there was Cedric Diggory, a third-year who was a tall, well-built boy with short dark hair and bright green eyes, which rivalled Violet's own. He was the seeker on the Hufflepuff quidditch team; a popular school sport, Violet learned. And then there was Anthony Rickett, a fairly average boy with black hair, and Tamsin Applebee, a fairly average girl with blonde hair. The two were a couple, apparently, and both were third-years on the quidditch team.

"So, Violet, how are you finding Hogwarts so far?" Cedric asked, his gaze mesmerising as his eyes were practically glowing.

"Oh, um," She laughed awkwardly, swallowing a mouthful of toast, "It's alright. Everyone so far has been nice, though I'm pretty sure I'm going to get lost on the way to my classes, this place is huge..."

Everyone around her laughed, Cedric nodding emphatically, "Don't worry, we've all gotten lost before. It gets easier with time. Most professors are lenient with first-years for the first few weeks when it comes to getting to lessons on time."

"Except for Snape," Anthony added, "He's a right arse. He teaches potions. Whatever you do, don't get his attention on you."

"Which one is Snape?" Aimee asked, glancing at the staff table.

"The one that looks like he hasn't showered in a month." Tamsin chuckled. In unison, the three first-years turned to observe the man.

Tamsin wasn't far off in her brief description, Violet saw. He was a lanky man, with shoulder length black hair that was so greasy it appeared to be shining, even from her seat halfway down the hall. He was glaring at anything and everything he looked at, from his plate to the people around him.

"Avoid Snape, got it." Violet agreed, "Any other advise?"

Cedric replied, "Not really. Do your work, stay out of trouble, the usual."

Suddenly papers were flying through the air, each hovering in the air in front of students. Only the first-years, Violet saw. Then a paper stopped in front of her and she realised it was her timetable.

She, Caroline, Hannah, and Aimee began to compare their schedules.

"Hey, we all have the same schedules!" Aimee exclaimed.

"Did Gabriel not explain that?" Tamsin shook her head, "All students share the same classes first and second year with their own house, though some classes overlap with other houses. You'll likely have classes with Ravenclaw more than the others, but you'll surely have at least one with Gryffindor and Slytherin each."

"Right, okay..." Violet nodded, "We should probably get going if we're going to find our first class. Herbology?"

"That'll be Professor Sprout. She's also the head of Hufflepuff." Cedric said, standing up with the group of first-year girls, "She's out in the greenhouse behind the castle. My first class is that way, I'll walk you down there. Bye guys!"

He waved to his friends before leading the girls out of the hall. They followed him through the castle, making small talk as they walked.

Violet learned that Aimee, Caroline, and Cedric were considered "Purebloods", or having both parents be Witches/Wizards, while she and Hannah were "half-bloods", or having non-magical parents. Cedric was very assertive that blood status didn't matter, despite what some believe. He warned them against Slytherins, who were the worst of the houses, as they tended to be bullies and violent.

He led them halfway down to the greenhouse, wishing them luck on their first day before heading back inside for his own classes.

The girls entered the greenhouse, glancing around at the fellow Hufflepuff first-years. There were also students who introduced themselves as Gryffindors. At the mention of the red-and-gold house, Violet began looking around for Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Upon finding them, she waved as they glanced over. They were on the other side of the long tables, so they had to speak up over the other students to hear each other.

The raven-haired boy smiled, "Alright, Violet?"

"Alright, Harry." She returned.

Before she could say anything else, an older woman walked in. She was a squat little witch, with short grey hair and a brown dress, which was covered in dirt, as were her hands. She smiled brightly at the students, briefly introducing herself as Professor Sprout before launching into her lesson.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

By the end of the day, Violet was exhausted by the overwhelming amount of information she'd gotten.

She'd had five classes throughout the day, each lasting just over an hour. By the time her last lesson ended at 5:30pm and she was heading for dinner, she wasn't sure she could handle a single new fact.

First was Herbology with the Gryffindors, then Potions with just Hufflepuffs. This was followed by an hour lunch, then History of Magic with Slytherins, who had been far beyond obnoxious.

The worst of them was the white-blonde boy that she'd met her first evening at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy. He and his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, were picking on the nervous first year Hufflepuffs. Throughout the, admittedly boring, lesson, they were constantly throwing bits of paper at other students. Anytime someone tried to walk by, they tripped them. And they constantly made rude comments about others' looks.

By the end of the lesson, Violet was ready to deck Draco in the face. In fact, she almost did.

Draco and his buddies were standing at the door after class ended, shoving students around as they exited. When Violet and her friends, Hannah and Aimee, tried to leave, Draco used some spell to tear open Aimee's bag and send her belongings flying.

"Why you little-" Violet lunged for Draco, stopping a few inches short when an arm banded around her waist and yanked her back away, "Why do you have to be such a right git?!"

Draco jumped further away from the girl, eyes wide in fear. "You were going to hit me!"

"You've done nothing but bully people all day! It's what you deserve!" She tried to push forward, scratching uselessly at the arm around her. She was seething, which was out of the ordinary for her usual calm demeanour.

"Get out of here, Malfoy. Just go!" A voice from behind Violet shouted. It jarred her out of her anger, releasing her hands from fists and slumping back. Draco rushed off with his friends, glancing back at Violet as if afraid she'd go after him.

"Can I let you go now?" The voice asked and she nodded. The arm dropped from around her waist and she spun around, "Sorry, I didn't think it wise for you to attack him. He's a Malfoy, you know?"

"I have no idea what that's supposed to mean, but thanks. I don't know what got into me..." She sighed, turning to find Aimee and Hannah staring at her with wide eyes.

"Malfoy? They're one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families. One of the oldest, wealthiest families in the wizarding world. I'd stay away from him if I were you."

"Right, thanks, um..."

"Eddie Carmichael."

"Right, thanks Eddie. Well, I should get going now..."

"'Course, don't want to be late. See ya around." He winked before heading off.

"Violet!" Hannah whisper-shouted, following after Aimee as she started off towards their next class.

"I'm sorry, are you okay Aimee?" She asked, trailing after her friends. She felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. She had always been against violence, but something about that boy brought out the worst in her, it seemed.

"I'm alright. You didn't have to do that, you know." She shrugged, holding her books and things tightly. Her bag was ruined and she was struggling to hold everything. Violet took some of the items off the top, easing the load.

"No, I know, sorry. Something about that boy..." She huffed, trying to prevent her anger from bubbling up, "I don't like him. Not one bit."

"No one does," Aimee reassured her, "But you can't go after him like that. His family is bad news, and no one can touch him. Even Dumbledore can't control them."

"Would've been good to know earlier." She muttered as she entered their next class.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Luckily the rest of the day was uneventful. Charms and then flying lessons, both with the Ravenclaws. Afterwards, at dinner, Hannah and Aimee told the story of Violet's run-in with Draco to their friends. Caroline had separated from their little group, having been with Susan Bones since breakfast. Cedric and Anthony Rickett also sat with them, listening intently.

"And then she PUNCHED HIM!" Hannah was saying.

Violet gasped, "No I didn't! I almost punched him. Big difference."

"You attacked Draco? Draco Malfoy?" Anthony was appalled, Violet could tell from his facial expression, "Do you have a death wish?"

"Urgh!" She groaned, dropping her head into her hands, "It's not that bad, is it?"

A resounding "yes" came from those around her. She couldn't believe that she'd messed up so badly on her first day. Her first day of being a witch, and she attacks one of the most important students in the school. A student whose father could apparently have her removed from Hogwarts in an instant.

She huffed in exasperation, "I have to apologise. Make it right, before he can tell on me."

"Oh, I need to see this." Anthony laughed, shaking his head.

"Leave her alone, mate." Cedric shoved his friend with his shoulder, "Don't listen to them, Violet. It's bad, yes, but you'll be okay. No sane professor would believe any story Malfoy could make up over the truth."

"Right, okay, thanks." Violet moved to stand up, her appetite gone after only a few bites. How disappointing, she thought. There were fish and chips, her favourite.

Hannah moved to get up with her, "Where are you going?"

"I'm just going to head down to the dorm, I'm knackered. I'll see you later, okay?"

Everyone bid their goodnights as she left.

On her way out of the Great Hall, she risked a glance at the Slytherin table. A couple of first-years were glaring at her, but there was no Draco Malfoy in sight. Just outside the hall, Harry and Hermione were on their way in.

"Hey! What's this about you attacking Malfoy?" Hermione asked, pulling her two friends off to the side, away from the open doors.

Harry gasped, "You attacked Malfoy?!"

"I didn't- I mean, I did- He was bullying other first-years, and he used some spell to ruin my friend's bag and spill all her stuff. I just lost it! I tried to punch him, but a second-year stopped me." She ran her hands through her hair. It barely fell to her shoulders, having left it down for the day, something else she rarely did.

"He deserved it." Harry decided.

"Harry!" Hermione slapped his arm, "You shouldn't be attacking anyone, Violet. You're smarter than that!"

"Yeah, I know. It was stupid. He's a prat!"

"Still-" Hermione started, likely launching into a lecture, when Ron rounded the corner and waved at Violet.

"Hey, what'd I miss?"

Violet frowned, "Not much, I attacked Malfoy and now I'm going to be expelled."

"Bloody hell! I bet he deserved it." Ron laughed before Hermione's glare silenced him.

"Right, well, I'm heading to bed. It's been a long day."

"Night!" The trio said as they continued into the Great Hall.

Violet was ready to drop by now. She had originally planned to get a head start on her Potions work that was due the next day, but now she could barely keep herself awake. She headed towards the stairs to go to the basement, but fate had other plans.

"Hey, you!" She spun around at the sudden shout. There, coming down the stairs, was none other than Malfoy.

Violet swore to herself before chastising herself. Her mother would be ashamed of such language.

"Who do you think you are?" He hissed as he moved closer to Violet, stopping barely a metre away, "Do you know who I am?"

"I didn't-" She started to snap, reminding herself to calm down, "About that. I wanted to apologise. I'm sorry I tried to hit you."

"You- what?" He pulled up short, shock written across his features. He was frozen a moment, as if he couldn't tell if she was being genuine.

"I'm sorry. No matter that you were being a prat, I shouldn't have responded violence with violence. It wasn't right."

"Uh," He stuttered, still shocked. All he could do was nod and slowly back away, staring at her as if she had grown a second head.

Violet turned and rushed down the stairs, not slowing until she was safely in her dorm.

'There,' she decided, 'I've apologised. Whatever else happens is out of my hands. I just have to avoid him from now on.'

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